Black Widow
by Pookie Sanchez
Summary: 18....Finally! Nancy suicidal, seeing a shrink? People trying to kill Frank's teacher? A new terrorist organization? A bet? And who in the world is Sweet Rodriguez? All this and more in my first Hardy BoysNancy Drew Fanfiction! Please read and review
1. Hazy

She sat in a wicker chair, dimly aware of her menacing surroundings. Her setting was hazy. Men sat in matching wicker chairs scattered around the cell-like, gray, room. All of the men held drinks of odd metallic and fluorescent colors, in transparent crystal glasses. Looking down, she realized she held a fluorescent orange drink. Curiously, she brought the drink to her cracked lips. The orange liquid invaded the dry corners of her mouth. The liquid tasted of chilled prune juice. She removed the glass from her lips and was surprised to see the rim of the crystal glass covered in blood.

            She looked up to see every man looking at her with eerie, knowing smiles. The edges of the men began to blur, becoming as hazy as the room. For the first time, she began to wonder where she was.

            One of the men arose from a chair on the opposite side of the room. He slowly made his way through the room, making his way around the other men in their chairs. The blur began to cover everything in the room. The man walked until he was standing in front of her.

            By this time, everything was blurred. All that shone through the blur was the men's' smiles. The man standing in from of her had on the largest smile of them all. He, unlike the others, had on an affectionate smile. A smile of a dear friend.

            She began to soften, her previous tension washed away. Then the man pulled out a dagger. The dagger was clearer than the men's smiles. It came down in the most perfect arch She had ever seen, and tore through her heart.

            Her hand jerked, dropping the crystal glass. It fell in slow motion towards the floor. Upon impact, it shattered without making so much as one sound.

            She died smiling.


	2. Pranks, suicide, and Frank's Pink Bunny ...

Disclaimer: I forgot to add this part in the first chapter so here it goes....My name is Pookie Sanchez and I'm an alcoholic. Oh yeah, and I don't own Nancy Drew, Bess Marvin, Frank Hardy, Joe Hardy, etc.

Author's note: I realize that compared to the previous chapter the next few are anticlimactic but please bare with me, I promise the story gets better. And anything _italicized _indicates thought.

Chapter 2

            Joe Hardy sat pensively in his room in front of his red telephone awaiting news that had the potential to change his life. Sweat trickled down from Joe's forehead, took a detour at his nose and continued on to his lips. Joe stared in silence at the phone almost daring it to ring.

            Ring!!!

            Joe grabbed the phone, almost crushing it in the process, and answered, "Well?"

            "It's a go."

            Joe's lips curved upwards in a smile. "I'll meet you in ten minutes."

            In two seconds flat Joe threw on some shoes and a jacket and was racing down the stairs. He ran past the living room and had his hand on the doorknob when he heard..

            "Ahem."

            Slowly he turned around to see his aunt Gertrude standing with her arms crossed.

            "Y-yes?" he stammered. Ever since he was a child his aunt had contained the uncanny ability to rattle him. 

            "Where do you think you are going at," she turned her wrist to look at her watch, "eleven thirty on a Tuesday night? You do have school tomorrow you know."

            The teenager put on his most disarming smile, "Aunty I was just going outside to check for...taggers."

            "Taggers?" Gertrude Hardy asked doubtfully.

            "Yes," Joe nodded, "those beasts are determined to tag all of Bayport." Joe put on his best distressed face and placed his hands on his aunt's shoulders, "And if we let them take over Bayport they will then take over the United States, and well, if the United States falls then who knows what will happen to the rest of the world."

            Gertrude looked Joe in his deep blue eyes before letting out a loud hearty laugh. "Joe that has to be the worst excuse you have ever come up with."

            Her nephew dropped his hands to his sides and nodded, his plan was over.

            "If you wanted to sneak out of the house to perform the senior prank why didn't you just say so?"

            His jaw dropped. "W-what?"

            "I am in charge of you while your parents are out of town and I say you can go."

            Baffled, all Joe could do was stare.

            "What?" Gertrude asked innocently. "I was eighteen once, I know how much this means to you."

            "Uh," Joe couldn't find the words.

            "Go!" ordered Gertrude, "Or do you want to go back to your room?"

            In a flash Joe was in his van driving out to Bayport High School.

*                                  *                                  *

            "Frank! Frank Hardy!"

            Frank awoke with his face inch deep in a slice of pizza. He lifted his head to see who was calling his name only to find that the cheese from the pizza was plastered onto his face.

            The person calling him giggled, "That's a nice look on you."

            Frank, embarrassed, wiped the cheese off of his face. 

            "You know you're still greasy."

            He grinned, "This is what I get for majoring in Journalism."

            Nineteen year old Frank Hardy was talking to his girlfriend, Kimberly Randle. 

            "What? You don't enjoy it?" She asked.

            "That's not it," he pulled her onto his lap, "I just never expected it to be so much writing," when Kimberly raised her eyebrow he quickly explained, "I mean I knew it would involve a million papers a week but I started this stupid paper three days ago and I'm still not done."

            The two were in Frank's dorm room at New York University. The room contained one bed, a dresser, and the desk he was sitting at. On the desk was his laptop, containing his never-ending paper.

            Kimberly laughed, "That was my reaction when I started taking journalism last year."

            "Well it's great that I'm not suffering alone."  Frank smiled, pulling her closer.

            "What makes you think I'm suffering?"

            "You just said..."

            "That I had the same reaction. Trust me, you'll get used to the pains of journalism."

            He groaned, "I doubt that, I've been taking it for the last semester and a half and I still haven't 'gotten used to the pains'."

            Kimberly put her hands on Frank's chest, "Well tell you what, how 'bout you take a break from all this writing and come with me to a frat party."

            Frank looked at the clock in the bottom right corner of his laptop, "At midnight?"

            Kimberly kissed him quickly. "Why not?"

            "Well I...."

            "Don't have any classes tomorrow, or have anything I you have to do," Kimberly finished for him.

            After a few minutes of arguing with himself, Frank finally relented. "Let's go."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Joe, are you sure this is a good idea?" Biff Hooper asked nervously from the back-seat.

            "Chill Biff," Joe answered back. 

            "Yeah Biff, since when are you so jumpy?" Vanessa Bender piped up.

            The three were sitting in Joe's van, parked three blocks away from the high school. Joe sat in the driver's seat, Vanessa beside him, and Biff in the back.

            "Since I got talked into going along with this stupid prank."

            Vanessa turned around, a look of patience masking her annoyed face, "We have done much worse. How about all those times we could have gotten arrested helping Joe and Frank on cases?"

            "Yeah but-"

            "But nothing," she snapped, "we will go through with this prank and like it." She immediately felt bad for snapping at her friend but he had been complaining the whole time they had been driving to the school.

            Biff sat back. "Man Joe, did she ever treat you like that when you two were dating?"

            Joe grinned, "Worse, my friend, much worse."

            "Hey!" Vanessa replied indignantly before smacking him on the head.

            "I see what you mean," Biff said.

            Both boys laughed.

            "You know what," Vanessa started in an angry/insulted tone that only she could do, "if you two don't stop teasing I'm going to tell both of you the other person's secrets."

            The boys stopped laughing immediately.

            "That's better," Vanessa muttered.

            "There's Gary's signal," Joe said excitedly, seeing a light flash three times in the distance.

            "Oh good Lord, Gary is the one in charge of this," Vanessa groaned, "Maybe Biff was right, this might not be such a good idea."

            "Just come on," Joe ordered.

            All three teenagers got out of the car, all dressed from head to toe in black. Each were dressed in black jeans, black shoes, and black gloves. They also each held a small bag filled with a screwdriver, flashlight, and a mystery substance.

            Once out of the van, they ran three blocks and did not stop until they reached the side of Bayport High School. There they found another group of seven teenagers, all dressed like Joe, Vanessa, and Biff, and all ready to pull the largest prank in Bayport High's history.

             Joe recognized six of the seven teenagers, Mariah Brahams, Jonathan Meirs, Gary Fio, Tamany Harall, Courtney Johnson, Michael Rotello, and Kendra Wilson. The seventh, hard as he tried, Joe just could not place. He could only see her face. As far as Joe could tell she was African-American with a dead serious look in her hard brown eyes.

            "For those of you who don't know," Gary's voice broke into Joe's thoughts, "this is Sweet Rodriguez." Gary was motioning toward the girl Joe could not place, "She's kinda new to this school." After everyone had acknowledged Sweet, Gary went on, "Well let's get started, everyone brought what they were supposed to."

            In seconds Joe found himself being lifted off of the ground to reach an air vent. He took a screwdriver out of his bag and unscrewed the cover on the vent. Carefully, he placed every screw in his bag. Then, he threw the vent cover down to Biff, who caught it. He looked down at the person lifting him, Jonathan, and nodded. Joe had only meant for John to help him get into the vent by giving him a little push but Jonathan practically threw him in.

            _Alright, I'm in._

            As Joe crawled deeper into the labyrinth of vents, Sweet was raised into the vent, followed by Mariah, Michael, Kendra, Courtney, Tamany, Gary, Vanessa, and finally, Biff. John was to act as lookout. 

            Joe took a flashlight out of his bag. As he turned the flashlight on he realized that he would have a hell of a time crawling down vents while holding his bag and the flashlight.

            _Should have thought of that before._

            The young man maneuvered his way to a fork in the ventilation system. He took the right vent along with Mariah, Kendra, Biff, and Gary, as was planned, while Sweet, Courtney, Tamany, Vanessa and Michael turned left. 

            As Sweet crawled through the vents she couldn't help but notice the dismal conditions of Bayport High School's ventilation. With the aid of the faint rays of light being projected from her flashlight she could make out mold growing everywhere. Some areas of the vents were rusted reminding Sweet of some old footage she had seen of sunken ships on the Discovery Channel.

            _Yeah, great analogy, moron. Pretend you're in a sunken ship, that's gonna help._

            Before the girl knew it she had found her destination, a vent leading into the principal's office. Masterfully she began the task of removing each screw. One by one she placed them in her bag. Sweet removed the vent cover, placing it out of the way. With out fear she jumped down into the office. She looked up to see the others carefully making their way down.

            Once everyone was out of the vent, Vanessa went over to the principal's desk and immodestly went through his drawers. She was careful not to leave a mess, as she did not want anyone to find it the next morning and become suspicious, instead she used a systematic searching method she had learned from Joe. Finally, she found a key chain with at least twenty keys on it.

            "How did you know it was there?" Sweet whispered.

            Vanessa looked up to see everyone staring at her. "I just know my stuff." Vanessa haughtily walked over to the door leading out into the hallway and unlocked it. "Come on, we have work to do."

            "What about Joe's group?" whispered Kendra.

            "They know what to do," answered Vanessa.

*                                  *                                  *

            "Kimberly!" Frank yelled over the music, finding it ridiculous that he had to yell for his girlfriend to be able to hear him, especially because she was dancing only an inch away from him.

            "What!" She yelled back, throwing her whole body into another rhythm provoked dance.

            "I should go!"

            "Why?!" As she said this she was still smiling and dancing.

            "I need to finish my paper!"

            Frank was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He was in the middle of a crowded frat house, being shoved and pulled in every direction. On top of that, early on he had been chewing gum and kissed some chick he had thought was Kimberly and the chick ran off with his gum.

            Kimberly stopped dancing and looked him in the eyes. "Okay if that is what you want." 

            "I hope you aren't mad." Frank yelled, "But I just want to throw on some PJs and finish the paper from Hell!"

            His girlfriend smiled and placed her hands on either side of his face. "No it's alright! That's what I love about you, you work hard!" She kissed him, "Besides," she said jokingly, " I LOVE SEEING YOU IN YOUR BRIGHT PINK BUNNY PJS!"

            Unfortunately the moment she started the last sentence, the song ended. Everyone stared at Frank and Kimberly in disbelief. Frank felt his face burn and knew he was turning bright red.

            As the partiers went back to dancing, Kimberly stifled a giggle. "I'll be right back. I need to go get my jacket. Meet you outside."

            Frank was more than willing to leave the room. However, before he left he took one long look at Kimberly. He couldn't help but think that he got the prettiest girl on campus. She had dark brown hair that flowed gently to her mid back, with bright green eyes that accentuated her lively face. The only thing Frank had to get used to was her height, Kimberly was by far the shortest woman he had ever dated. When they kissed he had to lean over and she would have to stand on her tip toes.

            Once outside Frank took in a deep breath. He had forgotten what body-odorless air smelled like. He closed his eyes thinking of nothing, just clearing his mind, when he heard someone talking behind him.

            "Yeah, just let me find my other shoe," an eerily familiar voice was saying.

            Frank turned and opened his eyes in shock. "Callie Shaw?"

            The woman opened her eyes a little wider than they usually were, "Frank! It's great to see you!"

            At 5' 5", with short black hair, and deep brown eyes, Callie was everything Frank remembered her to be.

            "Um, you two know each other?" a woman standing next to Callie asked. Frank recognized the woman as Cynthia Coops, another Journalism major.

            "Yeah, Cynthia this is Frank, my ex boyfriend. And Frank-"

            "We've met," Frank interrupted, shaking Cynthia's hand.

            "Callie I'll start looking for your shoe, you can catch up."

            As soon as Cynthia was gone, Callie became angry. "Why are you here Frank?"

            "Callie in case you've forgotten," Frank frowned, "I go to school here. The question is, why are you here?"

            "Frank Hardy that is none of your business!" Callie yelled, "Maybe I like coming out here from Philadelphia State. I'm not restricted from the state of New York just because YOU are in it." Callie paused, "And besides, I came out here to visit my boyfriend."

            "Your boyfriend?" 

            "What?" She spat, her voice dripping of venom, "I can't have a new boyfriend?"

            "That's not why I-"

            "Grr. You are so egotistical Frank! Why should I never get over you?! You just want me wrapped around your finger for the rest of your life! You just can't stand that I found a new man after you got rid of me!"

            Frank looked perplexed, "YOU broke up with ME!"

            Callie waved her hand, "Details, details." She walked off in search of her friend.

            Confused, Frank waited for Kimberly

*                                  *                                  *

            The teenagers surveyed their work. Both groups had found their way to the same hall. Joe grinned, their work was complete! Every door, with the acceptation of the entrances and principal's office door, was rigged. With the help of Sweet and Courtney's physics and math expertise, every thing would go according to plan.

            "Time to leave," Biff announced. 

            "Yeah," Greg groaned. "It's already 12:30 in the morning and if we are planning on coming back to school at seven to watch this fiasco, we need to get some sleep."

            All the teenagers left the building through the vents in the principal's office, Sweet leaving last so she could put the screws back in the vent cover. 

            As they all left the building, went to their cars and drove off, the anticipation of the following school day haunted them.

*                                  *                                  *

10:30pm, same night, Wilder University

            "Come on Nancy!" yelled Bess Marvin.

            Nancy Drew shook her head; sometimes her friend was full of too much energy. The two girls were at a party at Bess' sorority house. Bess had gotten the idea to introduce Nancy to some football player in a less than clever ruse to sway Nancy's affection away from her current boyfriend, Michael Gianelli.

            Bess half dragged Nancy to the second floor balcony. Nancy took in the sight of a group of rowdy young men gathering around a six foot, muscle bound, red haired, man, smashing a beer can against his forehead. Nancy knew they were football players by pure instinct.

            "Dude!" One of the football players exclaimed.

            Letting go of Nancy, Bess cut through the crowd and grabbed the red head by the hand, dragging him over to Nancy. "Nancy," she said breathlessly, "this is Gilbert Hoodrow."

            Up close Nancy could make out all of Gilbert's imperfections. She saw that he had extra body hair. She could make out a unibrow and what seemed to her like an extra hairy covering over his skin. Nancy fought a grimace as she politely shook his hand, which was also covered in hair. Bess took this time to carefully slip away.

            "So Bess tells me you are some kind of reporter babe," Gilbert smiled.

            Nancy fought back an urge to punch him, and fought another urge to shudder. Gilbert's teeth were jagged, chipped....and yellow. "I work on Headlines," she replied politely, referring to her on campus news show.

            "Really? Cuz I've watched that show every week and I've never seen you on it." Gilbert seemed puzzled.

            Nancy replied, "I am pretty sure I work there. Do you remember my co-host Michael Gianelli?"

            Gilbert screwed up his face in concentration, "Is he that old guy?"

            "What?" Nancy asked, a little worried for Gilbert's mental state.

            "Sure, that old guy and that young chick on that one channel. Reggie and Kate?"

            "You mean Regis and Kathie Lee?"

            "Yeah them." Gilbert nodded.

            Nancy moved in closer to Gilbert, dropping her voice down to a whisper, "Can you keep a secret?" When Gilbert nodded she went on, "I am on that show, but in disguise-"

            "Are you Regis?" Gilbert whispered back.

            "Yes, but no one can ever know because if they did it would lead to the beginning of," Nancy looked around nervously, "the Russain Revolution."

            Gilbert backed up and put his hands up in what looked like surrender, "You know what? I don't think I can be with you, I don't want a complicated love life. I like things simple."

            _Yeah I'll bet,_ Nancy thought.

            Out loud she said, "Good, run along like a good little boy. But don't tell anyone anything."

            Nodding, Gilbert half ran back to his group of idiot jocks. Nancy stiffled a laugh and went back into the sorority house to find Bess.

             Once inside she realized finding Bess would be harder than she had anticipated. People were like sardines in every spot on the second floor. Nancy couldn't even see the stairs leading to the first floor. Everytime she tried to push her way through the crowd she would get pushed back, or some guy would mistake that as an offer to dance with him. Realizing her task was futile, Nancy ducked into the nearest door and, after turning on the lights, found herself in what she realized was one of the sorority girls' rooms. 

            _At least no one is in here._

            Nancy sat on a queen sized bed.

            _I'll just sit here until the party dies down._

            Nancy looked at a nearby clock, seeing that it was only 10:30. 

            _Crap, I could be sitting here for the next six hours._

            Deciding against waiting, she looked around for a way out. Using her detective skills she deduced that the only way out was through the window opposite the bed. Sighing, Nancy walked over to the window, opening it with no trouble.

            _Ah well, it wouldn't be the first time I've had to escape a building through the window_

            The detective sat herself on the windowsill, evaluating her situation. Unfortunately, this was the side of the building facing the front yard. The only way down would be on the other side of the building where Nancy could easily grab hold of the gutters and slide down to the ground. On this side, Nancy saw, the only ways down were jump and fall.

            Just as Nancy decided to climb up onto the roof, so as to make her way to the other side of the building and climb down, she heard voices arguing.

            "Look," a man's voice was pleading, "we don't have to go through with this."

            A woman's voice was full of venom, "Do you want it or not you pathetic loser."

            "Hon,"  a second man's voice attempted to calm the woman down, "don't lose your temper, you know what the doctor said."

            Nancy was frozen on the windowsill, listening in curiosity.

            "I know," the woman calmed down, "but if we don't get this done in  the next week he's going to be pissed."

            "Don't you think I know that?" questioned the first man, "I'm just starting to doubt the plausibility of us getting away with this."

            "Look," man #2 said, "This is what we'll do. Let's go to the Diner and have pie. Then we can hang out at my place and discuss our plans."

            "Alright," the other two replied in unison.

            The teenage detective could tell that the three had left. She began to feel her heart beating faster, her senses sharpened, and she knew one thing....this was definatly a case. 

            Just as she was about to climb onto the roof she heard someone scream, "Oh my God! That girl is going to jump!"

            Confused for only a second, Nancy realized the person was screaming about her. A group began to form outside of the house, all the partiers now interested in a girl that might commit suicide.

            "No! I'm not going to-" Nancy attempted to yell down at the massive crowd, until she realized they were too busy gossiping to hear her.

            _Whatever_

            Nancy climbed up to the roof.

            "She's climbing higher!" screamed another person.

            "She's making sure she'll die!" Yet another person screamed.

            Rolling her eyes, Nancy made her way to the back of the house. She firmly grasped the gutters and slid down towards the ground, into the backyard. Nancy walked into the house hoping to find Bess. No such luck. Instead she ran into, literally, a cheerleader wearing her cheerleading uniform, holding a cup of something red. The cheerleader ended up with the red drink all over her white uniform.

            "Hey," the girl cried, "Look what you did?"

            "I'm sorry," Nancy apologized, "I didn't mean to-"

            "Like hell you didn't!" exclaimed the cheerleader, "You regular chicks are all so jealous of girls like me!"

            Nancy gave in, "Yes, that is the truth. I so, like, want to be a cheerleader. And when I saw you standing there in your uniform I just wanted to hurt you so bad."

            "Well," the girl responded, "I guess since you told the truth I can let you go."

            _I'm going to be sick_

            "Oh, like, thank you!" Nancy smiled, making her eyes light up.   

            "Sure, whatever, just go."

            Nancy continued through the house until she found the front door. Walking out the door she saw the group of people still watching the roof. 

            Unfortunately someone noticed her and yelled, "Look there she is!"

            All at once, Nancy felt herself being grabbed by a rather large man. He took her to a nearby ambulance that Nancy had not noticed. Along with the ambulance was a fire truck.

            _Crap_ Nancy thought as she realized what had happened. _When I find out which of these idiots called 911 to "save" me, I am going to go postal!_


	3. The Mysteries Begin and Psychiatrists Su...

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my soul, and I'm not even sure about that.

Chapter 3

            At precisely 6:30am Vanessa rang Joe's doorbell. Impatiently, she tapped her foot. It was just like Joe to be late on an important day. Vanessa rang the doorbell insistently until finally Gertrude threw the door open in exasperation.    

            Upon seeing Vanessa Gertrude rolled her eyes. Gertrude turned so that she was facing the inside of the house. "JOE YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS HERE!" She turned back to a blushing Vanessa, "Come in, that lazy bum will be right down in a minute."

            Vanessa walked into the familiar house and made a beeline for the couch. Gertrude on the other hand, went up to her bedroom. Vanessa assumed Gertrude was going to sleep; she had looked tired to Vanessa. Gertrude had bags under her eyes, something Vanessa never expected to see on the older woman.

            Joe came running down the stairs, backpack in one hand, shoes in the other, and his house keys hanging from his mouth. "Msry, herg."

            Vanessa got up and took the keys out of Joe's mouth. "What?"

            "Sorry." 

            "No it's alright," Vanessa said,"I'm used to you not being on time."

            Joe grinned sheepishly, "I meant about my aunt calling you my girlfriend."

            Gertrude had obviously overheard. "YOU TWO SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER NOW THAN WHEN YOU WERE DATING!"

            Both of the teenagers grinned and began to walk out to Vanessa's car, a candy apple red, four-door pickup.

            "It's only because I don't have to worry about you bringing down my reputation anymore," Vanessa assured Joe.

            "Funny Vanessa," Joe ground out. He smiled, "But now I don't have to worry about you taking away from my Don Juan thing."

            By then they had reached the truck and had gotten in. Vanessa started up the engine and started driving.

            "Vanessa?" Joe questioned, "You do realize the school is the other way don't you?"

            Vanessa looked at Joe as if that was the dumbest statement she had ever heard, "Yeah, but I'm picking someone up."

            Joe frowned, "Who?"

            "The new girl, Sweet Rodriguez." Vanessa said as she stopped the truck.

            Joe shut up. He looked out the window and realized they had only traveled half a block. In front of his eyes he saw a two story, blue house. "Is this it?"

            "Yup, stay here, I'll go get her." Vanessa set the parking brake before jumping out of the truck to get Sweet.

            As he waited, Joe noticed something different about Sweet's house, it had a huge front yard. Although it was not really important Joe couldn't help but wonder why none of the other houses in the area had the same football field-looking front yard. Joe stopped staring at the yard and focused his eyes on something else, Sweet. He smiled and got out of the car. He put on his most charming, womanizing smile and met Vanessa and Sweet when they reached the truck.

            "Hello," he grinned, taking Sweet's right hand and kissing it, "How are you?"

            Most girls felt flustered when he did this, even Vanessa, so when the two girls broke out it laughter Joe was surprised. "What?"

            Sweet bit her lip in a way Joe thought only made her look cuter, "Vanessa warned me you would do that."

            Vanessa, still gasping for air, apologized, "I'm sorry Don Juan, didn't mean to stunt your game but give the girl a break, she's new. She doesn't need a cute little blonde scaring her off."

            Joe smiled, "Cute?"

            Vanessa ignored him and guided Sweet to the truck. "Sweet take shotgun, Joe can sit in the back. Maybe some time alone will calm those hormones."

            Sweet laughed. Joe felt his ears burning; sometimes Vanessa could be cruel.

                                                                        *                                  *                                  *

            "Nancy!" exclaimed Michael at 3am.

            Nancy was sitting in a dull jail cell wearing the same thing she had been wearing the night before. She looked up to see her boyfriend on the other side of the prison bars with his hands on the bars. She was surprised. "I called George, why didn't she come?"

            "She didn't have any transportation so she called me. Why didn't you just call me yourself?"

            Nancy slowly walked over to the bars, she placed her hands over his and blushed, "I didn't want you to see me in prison." At Michael's expression she continued, "Yeah pretty stupid huh?" and looked down towards the floor.

            Michael smiled, "No I think it's kind of, well, thoughtful."

            Nancy looked back up and smiled back.

            "So why exactly are you in here? George didn't have the time to tell me."

            "I'll tell you in the car," she promised.

            Michael nodded, "Let's get you out of here."

*                                  *                                  *

            Three hours of sleep later

            "Nancy!" Bess exclaimed, running into Nancy's dorm room, waking Nancy and her roommate Kara in the process. "I heard all about you getting arrested at the sorority house! Are you okay? What did you do?" Bess sat at the foot of Nancy's bed.

            "Nancy YOU were arrested?" Nancy's roommate asked.

            Nancy blinked, trying to adjust to the light, "Yes." She pulled the covers over her head. 

            Unfortunately Bess was not willing to let the subject drop. She pulled the covers off of Nancy's head, "What happened?"

            Nancy blew a strand of hair out of her face, "Well after I convinced Gilbert I was Regis undercover-"

            "What?" Bess looked confused.

            "Long story," Nancy growled.

            "Well what happened?" prodded Nancy's roomate, now wide awake, sitting up in bed, listening.

            Nancy rolled her blue eyes and filled them in on how she had ended up on the windowsill. She carefully left out the part about the mysterious conversation. "I look down and there's this group of people thinking I'm ready to commit suicide. While I climbed onto the roof to crawl down using the gutter someone called 911 to report a girl attempting to commit suicide." Nancy saw that she had the apt attention of the two girls in the room. "So I finally get to the front of the house, after a little incident with an uptight cheerleader, and there's a cop car and a fire truck."

            "Already?" Bess asked.

            "Yes, they were quick. Anyway, I actually got picked up and taken to the fire truck to check for bruises, or cuts, or whatever." Her roommate giggled. "Then they arrested me! Apparently suicide, or the attempt of, is illegal in many states including this one!"

            Bess' eyes went wide, her hands flew to her mouth, "I'm so sorry Nancy, it's my fault."

            "Oh no," Nancy replied, "It doesn't end there."

            "What!?"

            Nancy glared at Bess, "Well, after I was questioned at the police station for a million hours I was put in a holding cell until someone could bail me out."

            "That's horrible, I can't bel-"

            Nancy held out a hand to stop her friend from saying more, "But before I was put in the holding cell they assigned me to an on campus psychologist to 'make sure I could overcome my obvious mental problems' and to 'make sure I could overcome whatever triggered my anti-social behavior.' Isn't that wonderful?"

            Nancy's roommate was laughing hard by this time. Between spurts of laughter she managed a, "Nancy...I know....that must have...been horrible....but that's hilarious."

            "Glad you think so Kara."

            Bess looked horrified, "Nance, I didn't know that-"

            "Your horrible attempt at matchmaking could end so disastrously?"

            Bess looked down sheepishly, "How did you know?"    

            "Bess, I'm a journalist. I'm the master at detecting false motives and schemes."

            "What matchmaking?" Kara questioned.

            "Bess tried to set me up with Gilbert something-or-other, a football player."

            Kara laughed.   

            Nancy's friend looked crestfallen. "I thought he would be a great match for you."

            "Why?" Nancy asked horrified, "Because of his stupidity? Gullibility?"

            "Extra hair?" Kara put in.

            Bess stood up, "Sorry for trying to help a friend out. I will never do it again." She looked angry.

            Despite everything, Nancy found herself grinning, "Bess I like that you are always thinking about your closest friends but I already have a boyfriend."

            "But he's arrogant, annoying, and all that. Even you didn't like him when you met him!"

            "You have to get to know him."

            "Yeah whatever," Bess smiled, "Hey want to go shopping today?"

            "Sorry no can do."

            "Why not? You don't have any classes today."

            "I have my first appointment with my psychologist, Rita Van Buren, in a few hours."

*                                  *                                  *

            Back in Bayport

            The senior class had everything planned; the senior picture was being taken in the bleachers surrounding the football field. It should take all of first period, then the seniors would go back into the school to watch the Juniors, Sophmores, and Freshmen fall victim to the senior prank.

            Biff fidgeted as the seniors waited patiently in the bleachers. 

            "Stop fidgeting," whispered Joe, "or the administration is going to know that we are up to something." Joe sat calmly beside Biff, at ease in the calm spring weather. "Think of something to calm yourself down. Like....going to college."

            Biff looked horrified.

            "Sorry," Joe apologized hurriedly, "How about girls?"

            His large friend calmed down, "Whatever happened to Mariah and her boyfriend?"

            "Sorry," Joe replied, "they patched things up after she cheated on him."

            "Vanessa's available," Biff said thoughtfully. At Joe's glare he continued, "But of course I could NEVER be interested in her."

            "Of course not," Joe relaxed.

            "Well how bout that cutie I saw you two get out of the truck with?"

            "Taken."

            "By who!?" exclaimed Biff, "She has only been here for a few weeks!"

            "Me," Joe answered calmly.

            "You?" Biff asked incredulously. "You've only known her for, what, less than twenty four hours? How could she possibly be yours?"

            "Trust me my friend, by the end of this week she will be head over heels for me."

            Biff let out a laugh, "You get more and more arrogant every year. What makes you think she's interested in you?"

            Joe grinned, his blue eyes sparkling, "I just know."

            A voice piped up behind Joe, "Are you talking about Sweet?"

            Joe and Biff turned to see Gary sitting behind them.

            "Yeah," Biff answered cautiously.

            "I wouldn't try anything with her," advised Gary.

            "Why not?" questioned Joe. "What do you know?"

            "Well she's from Las Angeles."

            Joe shrugged, "Yeah so?"

            "You don't understand, people from Los Angeles are crazy."

Biff replied sarcastically, "And us New Yorkers are just the most sane people in the world."

            Gary shook his head. "I heard Sweet was in the mental hospital for years and the only reason they let her out is cuz she was a danger to the other patients."

            "Who told you that?" Joe asked.

            "Vanessa."

            "And you believed her?" Biff asked.

            "You should see the inside of her locker, it's lined in black cloth, and there are devil worship symbols everywhere."

            Joe frowned, "Not that I don't believe you Gary, but I think I'll find out just how crazy she is for myself."

            "Alright, don't ever say I didn't try to warn you." With that Gary walked off to the other side of the bleachers.

            "Can you believe that guy?" Joe asked Biff.

            "How gullible can he get? I mean, come on, trusting Vanessa. Everyone knows that girl has a weird sense of humor." Biff paused, "I'll bet you I can get her to go out with me a lot faster than you could get her to go out with you."

            Joe raised an eyebrow, "Care to place money on that?"

*                                  *                                  *

            "Nancy," the psychologist said calmly, "tell me about your childhood." The woman twirled a pen in one hand while gazing at a notebook over the top of her glasses.

            Nancy sat in a leather chair opposite her psychologist. She glared at the woman across the oak desk. When she had walked into the office she already knew that she would not like anything about Rita Van Buren. First of all, Rita was relatively young, about thrity five, and pretty. Rita Van Buren had light blonde hair that fell gently around her face and the deepest green eyes Nancy had ever seen on anyone. Nancy knew that she shouldn't age discriminate but she couldn't help it. How could anyone so young understand the human mind thoroughly enough to be a psychologist? 

            Second strike, the woman intimidated Nancy a little. The young detective was not used to being intimidated by anyone, especially not some one she hardly knew. Third strike, the psychologist's office. The moment Nancy had stepped in she already knew what the psychologist would be like. People can be evaluated by their surroundings and Van Buren's surroundings were filled with diplomas, books, leather and oak furniture, and from what Nancy could see, memorabilia from Rita's childhood. Nancy believed Rita to be a self absorbed snob.

            "Nancy tell me about your childhood," Rita Van Buren repeated, looking over her glasses at Nancy, "Anything that you remember vividly."

            "Well from what I remember, vividly, I was...a child."

            Rita didn't even register annoyance at Nancy's blatant rudeness. "What was your mother like?"

            Nancy crossed her arms and continued to glare, "Female."

            "Your father."

            "Well," Nancy scrunched up her face, "from what I remember, he was male."

            Again Rita registered no annoyance. "Did you have friends?"

            "Yes."

            "Tell me about them."

            "Well, they were wonderful," Nancy smiled, "every day we would go to this lake near our houses and we would play this revolutionary new game, hide and seek. Of course they always had an easy time hiding what with being inhumanly short and all."

            Rita looked at Nancy questioningly.

            "Well they were Smurfs."

            Nancy observed the psychologist. Rita placed the notebook on the desk and took of her glasses. She rubbed her eyes, "Nancy, why are you here?"

            "You mean on earth?" She played stupid.

            "Here in my office."

            "I was forced to come."

            "You don't want to get help?"

            "For what?" Nancy snapped, "I'm not crazy, I didn't try to kill myself, I'm mentally stable."

            To the surprise of Nancy, Rita smiled. "I know that, but you have a lot of issues to work through."

            "Issues?" Nancy asked expressionless.

            Rita leaned forward, both elbows on the desk. "You have been in here for half an hour and you have exhibited nothing but hostility. Why is that?"

            "I am NOT hostile, just mad that I was sent here."

            "Nancy I'm going to need to see you at least once a week for the rest of the school year."

            Nancy frowned, "Because you believe I'm hostile?"

            "Trust me Nancy, you'll find yourself turning into a happy person."

            "I AM happy person."

            "That's what you choose to believe."

*                                  *                                  *

            The senior class stood in safe areas of the school's hallways. These were the only spots they would be safe from the oncoming commotion.

            Joe sat pensively on the bottom step of a staircase. Beside him sat Bif, grinnign from ear to ear. 

            BRRING! First period was over.

            The seniors watched, entertained as the underclassmen walked out of their first period classes, setting off the traps as they opened the doors. Out of nowhere came

pies flying through the air, not stopping until they hit someone. Soda came squirting out of carefully concealed water guns, landing on the underclassmen, becoming sticky as it dried. The last and best wave of torture came in the form of water balloons filled with food coloring. By the end of the attack the underclassmen were a number of colors, covered in cream, and sticky. The seniors could do nothing but laugh in their "safe" zones as the underclassmen struggled to understand what had just happened.

*                                              *                                              *

            Frank sat in his Western Philosophy class, afraid that he might fall asleep. After the party the night before, he had attempted to finish his paper but the wheels just weren't turning. After hours of trying to write anything that made any kind of sense at all, Frank gave up. He went to sleep at three in the morning, only to have to wake up at seven to get to his first class. Now he listened to his teacher, Mr. Jaswall, drone on about man's purpose on earth.

            "Mr. Hardy, what is your opinion." Boomed his teacher's voice.

            *Damn it* 

            Frank knew that the teacher was expecting something interesting. Mr. Jaswall always wanted something new, innovative. "Man was put here on earth for the sole purpose of creating plastic."

            Frank heard some snickers from the rest of the class. Mr. Jaswall, on the other hand, was interested.

            "Care to elaborate?"

            "Well think about it, Mother Nature can't make plastic all on its own. Man was put her to make the plastic that the earth craves."

            "And why does the earth want this plastic? Especially when the making of things like that help to deplete the ozone layer."

            Frank hadn't thought about that. He frowned then said, "Well with the ozone layer depleted the sun would ultimately kill off all creatures, we just aren't strong enough to handle those kinds of UV rays."       

            "Why would the earth want that?"

            "Well how would you like the feeling of trillions of little creatures tearing you apart, whether it's from eating all the grass or digging holes in you."

            More snickers.

            "Good job Mr. Hardy! With a mind like that you will go far!"

            *Whew*

            Frank put his head down on his desk, confident that the teacher would not call on him for anything else, and went to sleep. He didn't wake up until he heard the movement of his classmates, class was over.

            Frank picked up his Philosophy book and attempted to leave the room. His teacher stopped him at the door.

            "Mr. Hardy I have something to discuss with you," His eyes pierced Frank's, "I understand your father is a private detective."

            Frank shifted his weight from one leg to the other, nervously. He looked around; he did not want people to know that his father was a detective. Fortunately, he was the only student left in the room.

            "Don't worry Mr. Hardy, I wont let anyone know."

            "Alright," Frank said regaining composure, "what exactly do you need."

            "I need someone to help me find the people that are trying to kill me."

            At that moment Frank couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man. He could see the fear embedded in his teacher's eyes. "Why would anyone want to kill you?"

            Mr. Jaswall looked around nervously, "It might seem strange but I am worth millions of dollars."

            "No offense Mr. Jaswall but how is that possible? I know University professors are paid a hell of a lot better than high school teachers but..."

            "It was all inherited."

            "Well who would want to kill you?" Frank asked his meek teacher, curiously.

            "Family members, angry because they didn't inherit the money, lawyers, who knows?"

            "How do you know someone wants you killed?" 

            "Well at first I thought I was being paranoid, I thought it was all in my head. But this morning I was driving to the campus and," Mr Jaswall looked around as if he was making sure no one was listening, "I realized my brakes weren't working as well as they should have been. I got to the university, parked my car and checked to see what was wrong. Mr. Hardy believe me when I say that I was surprised to see my brake line cut through halfway."

            Frank frowned, "Are you sure that the brakes weren't just messed up. Usually when someone is trying to kill someone else by sabotaging brakes they cut through them all the way."

            Mr. Jaswall grabbed Frank's arm, "Come look for yourself," he urged. With that he took off with Frank following.

            Outside in the teacher parking lot Frank looked under his teacher's car. He came out from under the car with a frown, "That's odd, it was definitely cut on purpose. But why only halfway?"

            "I don't know," Mr Jaswall said nervously. "So do you think your father could help me?"

            Frank stood up, "What about the local police?"

            "They never help, they are so busy trying to solve numerous crimes at the same time that they don't have the energy to focus all of their energy on one case."

            "True." Frank looked at his teacher, "but I can't promise that my father will help. He is usually swamped with work." At his teacher's fallen face he continued, "But I think I can help you."

            "You?" 

            "I have solved many cases as well, I can help you with this one."            

            Mr. Jaswall looked puzzled, "But you're only 20 years old, if that!"

            "19 actually, but I really can help. Just ask the NYPD or Bayport PD about Frank Hardy and you'll be surprised."

            "So..can you start helping me right away?"

            "Yes."

*                                  *                                  *

            "You told him WHAT?" Kimberly Randle asked her boyfriend.

            Frank put down his Pepsi, the two were eating lunch at a local Taco Bell. "That I would help him."

            Kimberly knew all about Frank's past as a detective but was not at all pleased, "You could get hurt."

            Frank reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. "Kimberly, I have taken on more dangerous cases. Trust me, I will be fine."

            The woman looked into Frank's eyes and sighed, "I believe you, I just can't stand to think about you in any kind of trouble."

            Frank smiled, "I know. And to tell you the truth I'm planning on using this for my Journalism paper."

            "What happened to the ever riveting 'NYU-The truth behind the food'?" Kimberly teased.

            "It just wasn't working for me, this is a hell of a lot more interesting. It might even help me get on the editorial board of the school paper."

            "Slow down Mister, you still have to beat me to get that spot," Kimberly took a large bite of her taco.

            Frank raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his Pepsi. "Is that a challenge I smell?"

            His girlfriend laughed then sobered up as she asked, "Who is Callie Shaw?"

            Frank looked up surprised, "How do you know about her?"

            "Come on, I'm a journalist. It's my job to know what's going on."

            "She's my ex-girlfriend."

            "Hmmm," Kimberly tapped her chin, "that would explain the animosity she feels towards you."

            "You met her!" Frank exclaimed surprised.

            "Not exactly. She was in my Russian literature class this morning. She was with some friend of hers, another journalism major." Frank nodded. "Well her friend asked her about you and she had some interesting things to say about you."

            "Really?" Frank asked, calmly sipping his Pepsi. "Like what?"

            "Well I belive it went like this 'Frank is such a bastard! I wish he would just disapear or something. I want to kick him in the balls!'"

            Frank laughed, "That sounds like her."

            "You must have picked a really crappy way to break up with her if she feels that way about you."

            "See that's the thing," Frank looked confused, "she broke up with me."

            Kimberly smiled, "Maybe she isn't over you yet. I know I wouldn't be."

            Frank looked at her and smiled, "Love to hear you say that honey cuz I would take forever to get over you too."

            "Aw, that makes me want to brake up right now!"

            Frank laughed, Kimberly's sense of humor was twisted.

            "Stop, you two are too mushy for me."

            Frank and Kimberly looked up to see Chet Morton towering over them.

            "Chet!" Frank exclaimed, standing up to hug his friend, "When did you get into town? And how did you know I was here?"

            "I got into the city just an hour ago. I got hungry and ended up here. I didn't even know I would run into you!"

            "That's great!" exclaimed Frank. Then remembering Kimberly he said, "Chet this is my girlfriend Kimberly."

            Kimberly shook Chet's hand, "Pleased to meet you, Frank told me all about you."

            Chet grinned sheepishly, "Then I guess you know all about my appetite."

            Kimberly laughed, "'Fraid so. But don't worry I don't hold it against you. I love food too."

            Chet looked at Frank, "You got a good one Frank."

            Kimberly laughed as Chet excused himself to buy some food.

            "I like your friend," Kimberly said.         

            "I knew you would. Wait until you meet my brother."

            "Is he interesting?"

            "Trust me, he is a real character."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Joe! Why is there a banana peel on your head?!" Biff exclaimed.

            Joe was seated in his physics class when he heard his friend's booming voice. He looked up to see the amused gazes of his classmates. "Waiting for class to start."

            Biff rolled his eyes as he took a seat next to Joe. "Seriously Joe, why is there a banana peel on your head?"

            "It brings out the color of my eyes."

            "Fine if you are not going to tell me..."

            BRRING! Class started.

            "Okay class, time for a pop quiz." 

            The whole class let out a collective groan at Mrs. Taylor's announcement. 

            Joe groaned when he looked at the first couple of problems. He hadn't studied for his physics class for weeks. Luckily it was a short three question quiz so the pain of taking the quiz was short lived. When it was all over and done with there was nothing for the class to do but turn it in. By the looks of his classmates, Joe could tell that the rest of the class was expecting to fail as well.

            He perked up, however, when he saw the door open and Sweet walk through it. He wondered what she was doing in the classroom.

            "Class," Mrs. Taylor announced, "we have a new student, Sweet Rodriguez."

            "Hey Sweet!" called some of the students.

            "Don't worry they don't bite as long as they're not provoked," Mrs. Taylor reassured Sweet as she walked to the back of the room to take a seat.

            Mrs. Taylor didn't need to worry about Sweet. Dressed in black jeans, black t-shirt, and black duster along with many gothic accessories, Sweet looked intimidating. All the same, Biff and Joe grinned when Sweet took a seat behind them. 

*                                  *                                  *

            "So how was your therapy session hon?" Michael knew as soon as he asked the question that it was the wrong thing to do. He was sitting on his couch with Nancy cuddled up next to him. They had been enjoying watching discussing ideas for Headlines when he snuck the question in. He felt Nancy tense up.

            "It went okay."

            "Okay? That means you didn't like it."

            "The crazy woman wants to see me every week. She thinks I'm overly hostile and unhappy."

            Michael stroked the side of Nancy's face. "I'm sure she didn't mean to offend. And I'm sure that after one more session she will realize that you don't need therapy."

            Nancy looked up into Michael's eyes, "You think so?"

            "I'm sure." He leaned in and kissed her passionately.

            "Could you two please do that in private?" 

            Michael had forgotten that his roommate and best friend Gus was home. Nancy blushed, she never was comfortable with public displays of affection.

            Gus noticed Nancy's blush, "I'm just kidding Nancy. I'm leaving in a few minutes anyway."

            "Good," Michael said.

            Gus feigned sadness, "You mean I'm not wanted here? Michael I thought I was your best friend."

            Michael pointed to the front door, "Leave."

            "Alright, no need to get hostile."

            Michael watched his friend leave the apartment. "Sorry about that."

            "It's okay," Nancy replied. Her eyes brightened, "I have a great idea for an episode of Headlines." She quickly filled Michael in on the conversation she had overheard the night before.

            "That's definitely something to look into!" Michael replied excitedly, "But where should we look first?"

            Nancy jumped off of the couch. "Come on, I've got some ideas."

*                                  *                                  *

            Three hours later Nancy and Michael were searching every diner in the area of Wilder University. 

            "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Michael asked.

            Nancy, behind the wheel of her blue Mustang, answered, "We have no other leads."

            "Alright. But even if we do find someone that remembers three people eating together, who's to say that they are the same three people we are looking for?"

            "We'll just think up another way to figure this out."

            Michael grinned, "You know, this all seems second nature to you."

            "Yeah, so, we're journalists."

            "But it's like you've been doing this for years or something."

            Nancy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "How do you mean."

            "It's like you were a detective in another life, you never let anything phase you."

            Nancy looked at her boyfriend, "Well you don't do badly yourself."

            Michael nodded, "Thank you but that comes from having a cop as a father."

            Nancy parked her car in a diner parking lot. "Here we are, another diner."

*                                  *                                  *

            Ten minutes later Michael and Nancy walked out of the diner covered in chocolate milkshakes.

            Turning to Nancy, Michael said, "That is the last time I try to question a half deaf old woman."

            She simply nodded her agreement.

*                                  *                                  *

            Sweet Rodriguez walked slowly up the path to her house. She noticed a green truck parked in her driveway. _Great, The colonel home._

            She unwillingly forced her legs to walk to her front door. She unlocked the door, went inside and waited patiently for her dad to yell at her. Her father was sitting in the living room and sure enough he started yelling at her the minute he heard the door close.

            "Where have you been? School got out an hour ago!"

            Sweet rolled her eyes, "Out with friends Colonel."

            "Front and center."

            _This is ridiculous. Why do I have to have a father in the air force?_

            She walked into the living room and stood in front of the couch. Anyone who saw her with her father at that moment would never have thought that the two were related. Mr. Rodriguez was Mexican, with light skin. His daughter, although mixed, looked more black than Hispanic.

            "Why didn't you call me to let me know where you were?"

            "What is the big deal? I just hung out with some new friends after school. I thought you wanted me to be more social. Wasn't it you that called me anti-social?"

            The colonel stood up, "Don't mouth off to me."

            "I'm not-" Sweet stopped herself not wanting to get in any more trouble than she already was in.

            "I expect you to be disciplined and responsible, you are 17, soon to be 18, I would have thought that some of the good old Rodriguez genes would have rubbed off on you by now."

            Sweet frowned, "What's my punishment?"

            "You are coming with me to the Base tomorrow after school to train."

            His daughter didn't dare roll her eyes for fear that he should intensify her punishment. "Ay, sir."

            "Dismissed."

            Sweet rushed up the stairs to her room, the only place she could be at peace. Her room was decorated the way she wanted it to be, it was the only place in her house that was not completely influenced by her father's militant ways. It was the typical teenage room, band posters everywhere, Cd's, a boombox, that sort of thing. Sweet sat on her well made queen size bed and picked up the phone on the nightstand next to it. Quickly she dialed Vanessa's number.

            "Hello?" 

            "Is Vanessa there?"

            "Yes, who is this?"

            "Sweet."

            "What's your real name?"

            "It's Sweet."

            "Alright honey, I know how you teenagers are about having cool nicknames."

            "No really, it's Sweet."

            The person on the other end laughed, "Yeah sure, I'll get Vanessa."

            That wasn't the first time that had happened to Sweet. Most people found it hard to believe that anyone would name their child Sweet.

            "Hi Sweet!"

            "Hi Vanessa. What's up?"

            "Nothing really, just trying to avoid Joe and Biff?"

            "Why?" Sweet questioned, laying down on her bed, "They're both cute."

            "Ha!" Vanessa exclaimed, "Not when you've known them as long as I have."

            "So why are you avoiding them?"

            "Because they're asking question after question about you."

            Sweet smiled, "Are you saying that there is something wrong with me?"

            Vanessa sensed the teasing tone in Sweet's voice. "Actually it's alarming because I know they have a bet going on."

            "A bet."

            "Yeah, who can get the new girl to fall for them first."

            Sweet laughed, "We should play with their minds a little."

            "Just what I was thinking." After a pause Vanessa added, "But they really do seem taken with you."

            "Ah well, let them learn a lesson."

            "Yeah."

            "Um, Vanessa."

            "Yes?"

            "What's this I hear about being a former mental hospital patient?"

*                                  *                                  *

            Agent Griswald walked into his office. On his desk was a letter. Picking it up he found that it was unmarked. Not really interested he opened the letter and read one typed line: 

            Agent, the girl is ours. 

            Agent Griswald's eyes widened. He reached for the phone and quickly dialed his friend's phone number. 

            "Hello?"

            "Fenton, it's happening."


	4. Sweet Revenge and Fenton Has Phantoms

Author's Note: Thanks to all those who have reviewed my story, it's the reviews that keep me going. And to however asked, and signed their review as anonymous, I have no idea what color Callie's hair really is, let's just say that it's a dark color for this fanfiction. If anyone out there has read the Nancy Drew on Campus Series, what is Michael's father's name? Oh, and extra points to anyone who can tell me the name of the place that Joe and Frank used to hang out in. I know it was a pizza place.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Sweet Rodriguez, and a few other characters in this story. But Nancy, Frank, Joe, George, Bess, etc. ARE NOT MINE! At lease that's what Dixon and Keene keep telling me.

Chapter 4

            _Finally_! Michael's brain screamed at him. 

            Nancy had remembered that one of the people they were looking for, the woman, had some kind of medical condition and needed to see a doctor. She was now asking a waiter some questions, "So you know who these three people are?"

            "Yes, they come in here to eat every week " a red haired, short teenager answered, "I have overheard them talking about the woman's condition a few times."

            "What is wrong with her?" Michael asked.

            "She has diabetes," the waiter said smiling, proud that he could be of service.

            "Diabetes, that's great!" Nancy exclaimed, receiving odd looks from other people in the diner. 

            Michael looked at his girlfriend/partner then turned to the confused waiter, "She means it helps us a lot."

            Nancy nodded then placed a hand on the waiter's arm, "Do me a favor," she looked at his nametag, "Gage. Don't let these people know we are looking for them."

            "Why?" Gage asked, "Are they fugitives?"

            "We can't divulge any information at this time, but trust me you would be doing everyone a favor." Nancy recited the line as she had been trained to by her father.

            Michael looked at Nancy. Not for the first time he began to wonder if Nancy had ever received training from any special source. Sure he knew to recite lines and play on human emotions to get what he wanted but that came from having a cop as a father. So what was Nancy's excuse?

*                                  *                                  *

            "Man I'm telling you there is something up with your girlfriend."

            "Shut up and spot me Gus."

            "You have too many weights on the bar, " Gus said absentmindedly before launching into his next sentence, "I mean you are always telling me that you think she is hiding something from you. Why do you think so?" Not waiting for his friend to answer, Gus went on, "Because you are a reporter, born with the same instincts as your father. If you sense something wrong then you are probably on to something important."

            Michael stopped bench pressing and sat up. He hated to admit it but his friend had a point. "What if it's something horrible and I feel sorry for making her tell me?"

            Gus shrugged, "Whether or not you ask is for you to decide."

            Michael sighed. "Look, this is my first serious relationship, I don't want to screw this up."

            "Michael what does her father do for a living?"

            Michael frowned, "I have no idea."

            "So you know everything about her except what her dad does?"

            "No," Michael said slowly, "Come to think about it the only thing I really know about her is that she has a real talent for journalism and that she has the same family situation as I do."

            "Which is?"

            "Our dad's are divorcees and we both have to deal with them dating, even though it makes us feel left out."

            Gus shook his head, "Unbelievable man. I know this is your first serious relationship but its just common sense to ask your girlfriend stuff about her."

            "Whatever Gus, let's just go, we've been here working out for three hours."

            "Where to now?"

            "My dad's house, I promised I would stop by to hang out."

*                                  *                                  *

            Sweet sat in her attic. She was looking for boxes. When she had moved into her new house she hadn't unpacked completely. Fortunately her dad's anal air force ways led him to label every box and separate them into different areas. She quickly found the four large boxes she needed. Each was labeled Sweet's stuff/fragile. 

            It took four trips but Sweet finally got each box into her room.

            "Sweet!" Her father yelled from the first floor.

            "YES!"

            "What are you doing!"

            "Unpacking!"

            "When you are done, dust the attic!"

            She rolled her eyes. "YES SIR!"

            _Who in their right mind dusts their attic? Oh wait, that's right, this is the Colonel we're talking about._

            Sweet took the next hour to carefully dust the house's rather large attic. She made sure to dust every square inch so as to pass the Colonel's inspection. She then ran back to her room to open her boxes.

            RING!

            Why won't people leave me alone?

            Sweet answered her phone. "Who is it?"

            "Sorry, did I call at a bad time?" Vanessa asked cautiously.

            Sweet relaxed, "No, I've just been trying to unpack for the last hour and people keep distracting me."

            Vanessa smiled on her end of the phone, "Would you like me to come over and help?"

            Looking at her watch, Sweet saw that it was already 8pm. "And your parents will let you out this late?"

            "Late? What are you talking about? It's only 8pm."

            "Oh yeah, I forgot you aren't a military brat. There is no way in hell my dad would let me out past 8." She paused, "But I'm sure it's okay if you come over."

*                                  *                                  *

            "So what is in the boxes?" Vanessa asked, sitting on the hardwood floors of Sweet's room.

            "Spell books, charms, that kind of thing." 

            "No, really, what's in them?"

            Sweet opened a box, revealing a stack of old, tattered books, "Spell books."

            Vanessa stood up, "Are you into the witchy thing?"

            Sweet laughed, "Yes, I love the Wicca thing."

            Vanessa blushed. "So I'm assuming you want these books right over there." She pointed at an unused light brown bookshelf sitting in one corner of the room.

            "Yup, and if you come across the box full of charms and stuff just put them on the bottom shelf."

            Vanessa paused in the process of putting a book on the shelf. "What's this?"

            "What's what?"

            Vanessa pointed at the title of the book, Utopia.

            Sweet grinned sheepishly, "Oh, that. That's just a book of my poetry."

            "You write poetry? That's amazing," Vanessa looked her friend in the eyes, "I love poetry, can I borrow the book?"

            "Sure," Sweet shrugged, "But it's really no big deal."

            Vanessa opened another box. "You have the most interesting stuff," she said as she picked up a crystal ball and a vile of what looked like blood.

            "Be careful with that," Sweet replied while attempting to place books on the top shelf, an amazing feat at her height, "Frog blood is $30 a vile."

            "This is frog's blood?" Vanessa asked in awe.

            Sweet turned to her friend, "You don't seem grossed out."

            "Why should I be?" Vanessa placed the objects on the shelf.

            "Well I had friends in L.A. into the whole Wicca scene and they were still grossed out."

            Vanessa grinned, "I'm taking anatomy, we've dissected everything from a pig fetus to full grown cats."

            Sweet shuddered, "That's why I'm taking a math based science."

            "Don't tell me the thought of slicing into cold flesh bothers you," Vanessa teased her friend.

            "Hey, in my defense it isn't just the animals being dissected that bothers me, I happen to have a healthy fear of sharp objects."

            One hour later the girls had everything from the boxes on the bookshelf.

            Vanessa sat, legs crossed, on the bed. "So what do you do for fun?"

            "Whatever comes to mind." Sweet sat on a chair in front of her computer. "I really don't have much to do since I moved out here from L.A."

            "You should start hanging out with us more."

            "By us, I'm assuming you mean Joe, Biff, and stuff."

            "Yeah, and others that I could introduce you to."

            "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

            "And why not?"

            "I never seem to fit in, I mean sure people understand my sarcastic humor but that's about it. I go off on tangents about literature, physics laws, and all that stuff and I usually end up getting odd looks." She sighed, "And besides, I doubt I'll be living here for very long. My dad could get reassigned to a new air base at any time."

            "Well, we'll just have to deal with that if it ever happens."

            Sweet looked at Vanessa, sensing sincerity. "So why don't you have many close friends?"

            "Hey I have close friends, Joe, Biff, among others."

            "Don't lie to me," Sweet chided, "I've gotten military training. I can tell when a person is lying."

            "Alright, my only really close friends are those two knuckleheads. But Junior year I was friends with Frank, Callie, and Chet."

            "Who?"

            "Oh, um, Frank is Joe's older brother, Callie was his girlfriend, and Chet was a close friend of Joe and Frank's."

            "Joe has an older brother?"

            "An older, *responsible* brother." 

            "RESPONSIBLE!"

            "Yeah, cute too. But to tell you the truth I never felt all that close to Chet, Frank or Callie. I was just the replacement."

            "Replacement?"

            "Before I moved to Bayport Joe was dating this girl named Iola Morton, Chet's sister. She died in a car bombing meant for Joe."

            "How horrible!" Sweet exclaimed, eyes wide.

            "Yeah, I think the three of them had a hard time accepting me into their circle. Don't get me wrong, they were all nice and all of that but they never really took to me."

            "What about Joe and Biff?"

            "The only reason Joe didn't think of me as the replacement was because he was dating me." At Sweet's confused glance she went on, "He's the type of person that always has to have someone. He needs people around. And I really can't explain Biff, we just hit it off."

            "I still have one question though, why would anyone want to kill Joe?"

            Vanessa quickly explained about Joe and Frank's detective status. 

            Sweet nodded. "You haven't answered my first question, though. Why don't you have a lot of close friends?"

            "I don't know, I just don't really like that many people. I'll hang out with them cuz they're nice and all that but I can never really find anything in common with any of them."

            "I know the feeling. But hey, can you tell me about some of Joe and Frank's cases?"

            For the next hour Vanessa told Sweet about all of the major cases the brothers had taken on. "Oh and there is this chick, Nancy Drew, that they worked with occasionally."

            Sweet raised an eyebrow, "Is her father a lawyer?"

            "You know him?"

            "Kind of, he helped out a friend of my dad's who was accused of killing a man. Which in my opinion was a bullshit case cuz he killed the man while fighting in the Gulf War. Anyway go on. Do you know Nancy?"

            Vanessa nodded, "I met her while she was visiting Frank and Joe here in Bayport." She giggled, "It was actually comical watching Frank torn between her and Callie."

            The other girl giggled, "That's so cruel."

            "But it was," insisted Vanessa, "I mean, no offense to Callie but I was hoping Frank would choose Nancy." Vanessa looked at her watch, "Crap, I should get home. I'll see you at school."

            "Alright," Sweet sighed, "I guess you are going to leave me alone with the Colonel."

*                                              *                                              *

            "Michael what is wrong?" his father, Daniel Gianelli, asked him.

            "Nothing," Michael looked up from his plate of spaghetti.

            "Don't lie to me or I'll use my scary cop tactics on you."

            Michael laughed, "Dad you might scare criminals but I have nothing to fear."

            "Well what in God's name is wrong?"

            Michael put his fork down, "Nancy is hiding something from me."

            Daniel frowned; he liked the girl a hell of a lot more than the other girls his son had brought home over the years. "Why would you say that?"

            "It's just the way she acts, I really can't explain it."

            *Drew*, thought Daniel, *why does that name sound so familiar?*

            "Have you bothered asking her about whatever it is?"

            "No," Michael admitted sheepishly.

            His dad rolled his eyes, "Well usually to get information out of a person you have to ask them questions."

            "Thanks for the sarcasm dad, that really helps."

            "Just ask her what she's hiding."  _Drew...Drew...Drew, I know that name from somewhere. Why can't I place it?_

*                                              *                                              *

Next morning:

            "Fenton! Laura! You're home already!" Gertrude exclaimed when she saw her brother and sister-in-law at the door.

            "Yeah, had to cut the vacation short." Laura said regretfully.

            "Why?" Gertrude asked as she helped them bring in their suitcases.

            "Work calls." Fenton answered.

            "Somebody called Fenton's cell phone and let him know that he had an urgent case to work on," Laura explained, setting the last of the suitcases inside the house.

            "Well that's too bad," Gertrude said. "But I'm sure that Joe will be more than happy to see you two home so soon. Would you two like breakfast? Eggs? Or pancakes?"

            "Yeah," Fenton said distractedly.

            "Don't mind him," Laura told Gertrude, "He's just distracted by his new case. Apparently its so important he can't even tell his wife what its about."

            Fenton certainly was distracted. He couldn't stop replaying his conversation with Agent Griswald.

Flashback

            "What do you mean it's happening? How could this happen?" 

            Agent Griswald could sense that Fenton wanted answers immediately. "I don't know but they sent me a message, it says that they have the girl."

            Fenton could feel the sweat dripping down his forehead. How dare those FBI apes....He let his thoughts trail off as he forced himself to remember that the FBI had no control over it.

            "Agent Griswald, I'll get right on it."

            "Really?" There was hope in Griswald's voice.

            "Well what else would you expect me to do?" Fenton snapped.

            "Look Fenton don't get mad at me, I had nothing to do with it. I wasn't even aware that it was still going on."

            Fenton gripped the phone tighter, "Why won't those bastards stop? You would think that they would've learned their lesson from the last time."

            "Guess not. Fenton, there is an address that you should have checked out. I would do it but its closer to you."

            Fenton listened carefully.

            "In Philadelphia there's a place called 'Grassroots,' at least that is what it was called when it was open. It shut down at least three years ago but there was a reported disturbance three weeks ago."

            Fenton nodded without realizing that Agent Griswald had no way of seeing him. "Alright, what is the exact address?"

            The FBI Agent gave it to him. "And if the local police give you a hard time just let them know that you are working with the Washington D.C division of the FBI."

End Flashback

            Now Fenton was worried. _Of course it's always like this, the government stirs up trouble and the regular people are left to deal with it. But how do I do that? I couldn't stop it before, what makes me think I can stop it now?_

*                                  *                                  *

            Sweet was at her locker, putting away some of her books. 

            "Sweet."

            She turned around, no one. 

            "Sweet," a voice whispered.

            Again she turned around. She shook her head. _Must be hearing things._

            "Sweet."

            "That's it! Whoever is doing that show yourself right now!"

            "Geez," Joe said stepping out of the locker next to hers. "Didn't know anyone could have a violent reaction to hearing their own name."

            "Joe? How did you...Nevermind." She closed her locker and began to walk away.

            "What?" Joe asked innocently, as he followed her. When Sweet said nothing he went on, "I happen to like hanging out in lockers."

            "You are strange."

            "Says the girl wearing the skull belt."

            Sweet stopped dead in her tracks.

            Oops, thought Joe, never insult the outfit.

            "What do you have against this belt? Or maybe you just dislike my whole outfit."

            Joe looked Sweet up and down. She was wearing tight fitted black jeans, a black turtleneck, black stiletto boots, a belt of metal skulls on a chain, and black rose earrings. "Well no, I happen to love the gothic look."

            "Oh, and I guess I should take fashion advice from the guy wearing the..." she saw Biff round the corner and changed her tone, "sexy pants."

            "Huh?"

            Sweet moved in closer and placed her hands on his pecks, "And this shirt, it just turns me on beyond belief! I could just eat you up with a spoon!"

            Biff had stopped walking towards them.

            "Really?" Joe asked.

            "Yeah, and I could just picture you without the shirt on. It just gets me sooo excited!"

            Joe smiled and Biff's jaw dropped.

            Sweet sighed, "I'm already late to meet Vanessa for lunch. I'll see you later."

            Biff and Joe just watched Sweet walk away.

*                                  *                                  *

            "You did what!" exclaimed Vanessa.

            Sweet and Vanessa sat outside, under a massive oak tree, eating their lunch.

            "Yeah," Sweet smiled, "It was actually really fun."

            "So what are you going to do to them next time?"

            "I have no idea."

            "Really? Well I have one. This is what you should do...."

*                                  *                                  *

            Sweet walked up to Joe and Biff, eating lunch in the cafeteria with four or five other people.

            "Hey Sweet," Joe said cheerfully.

            She looked at Joe annoyed before turning to Biff, "Hey Biff," she said in a voice dripping with honey.

            "Hey," Biff smiled. "What are you up to?"

            Sweet sat down next to him and placed her left hand on his thigh, "I hear you are really good at physics."

            "Yeah?"

            "Yeah, and I was wondering....." She bit her lip, "If you would like to tutor me tomorrow after school. You know, a study date?"

            "Sure." Biff continued smiling. "Can you meet me at Doc Holliday's at four?"

            "Yeah. Great, I'll see you then." With that she walked away, swaying her hips.   

            "What the hell?" 

            "What Joe, did you really think you could win this bet?" Biff asked.

            "But, she has an A in physics."

            "Maybe she just wants to spend more time with Biff." The guy seated next to Joe, Jason, said.

            The rest of the people at the table laughed. Joe fumed; there was no way he was going to lose this bet.

*                                  *                                  *

            "Where to now?" Asked George.

            Nancy was silent as she backed her car out of a parking space. She had decided to keep searching for clues in her new case while her boyfriend spent the day in classes. "I'm not sure George."

            "What? The almighty girl detective is stumped?"

            "George, I'm so confused it's unbelievable. Usually I know what my case is about. This time I have no idea what the hell is going on."

            "But you know their names, that's something to go on."

            "Yeah I guess."

            George looked over at her friend. "What's wrong?"

            "What?"

            "You seem...deflated."

            Nancy laughed, "Deflated?"

            "For lack of a better word."

            "It's nothing."

            "Don't make me hurt you."

            "Alright, no need to get violent. It's Michael, he's starting to get suspicious."

            "How so?"

            "I think he is beginning to suspect that I have something I'm not telling him."

            "You mean the whole amateur detective thing?"

            The strawberry blonde simply nodded.

            "Why not just tell him?"

            "I wanted to leave all of that in River Heights."

            "Why?"

            Nancy sighed, "It's too hard to explain."

            George looked out her window, "Nancy where are we going?"

            "Back onto campus. I have to call my dad. Maybe he can look these names up."

            "What are the names anyway?"

            "Jack Maher, Berney Valleys, and....." Nancy searched her brain trying to remember the woman's name. "Sweet Rodriguez."


	5. The Plot Thickens

Author's Note: I have no idea what the name of the air base near New York City is called but in this story it is simply the New York Air Base. 

Interesting Fact:  H.G Welles' last words were "Go away, I am alright."

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN FRANK OR JOE HARDY, NANCY DREW, BESS MARVIN, ETC. However, Sweet Rodriguez and Kimberly Randle are mine.

Chapter 5

            "No way," Vanessa said amazed, "You have diabetes?"

            "Yup," Sweet said, "Since I was seven."

            The girls were on the phone talking. Sweet was on her bed, tired from a long afternoon at the New York Air Base. Vanessa was avoiding doing her homework.

            "So, does it hurt?" she paused, "Wow that sounded so stupid."

            "No, it's alright."

            "Anyway, where were you after school?"

            "At the Air Base. My dad decided that a day of military training would be good for me."

            "I almost forgot, your dad is an Air Force Colonel."

            "Yeah. But it was actually kind of fun. Since I was little my dad has been dragging me to whatever base he is working at to exercise and compete against all the military men and women. I can complete one of the obstacle courses in one hour flat."

            "One hour!"

            "Yeah, but average time for that course is two hours and a half. Those Air Force guys are really pathetic."

            "How badly did you embarrass them?"

            "Well let's just say that after I finished my training, the actual military people were chewed out for being 'sad pathetic excuses for soldiers.'"

            "Harsh."

            "Yeah, but half of them are going to go fight in Iraq soon. They need to learn to be faster." Sweet smiled, "And you know what the best part about training is?"

            "What?"

            "Going up in the air in the many aircrafts owned by the Air Force!"

            "They let you up there!"

            "Yeah, but only cuz my dad's a Colonel. And I wasn't allowed to fly the thing myself, I was just a passenger. Still, hitting 4Gs is exciting."

            "No fair, I want to try."

            "I'll try to pull some strings."

*                                  *                                  *

            Frank picked up his phone and dialed home.

            "Hello?" Came Joe's confused voice.

            "Joe it's me."

            "Me who?"

            "That's not funny." 

            "Alright, sheesh, you go off to college and all of a sudden you're Mister No-Sense-of-Humor."

            "Joe," Frank said in a warning voice.

            "Okay, I'll stop. Why are you calling?"

            "Where is dad? I tried his cell but no one picked up."

            "Pennsylvania."

            "Why the hell is he there?"

            "Don't really know, said he had some important case that he couldn't tell us about and that he couldn't be disturbed." Joe could hear cursing on the other end. "Why? What's wrong?"

            "A case I'm working on."

            "Tell me about it, " Joe begged, "Nothing interesting has happened here in such a long time."

            Frank filled Joe in on his case. 

            "So? Someone is trying to kill your teacher. Sounds pretty routine to me."

            "Not so. I did some research on my teacher and his family and here's the twist..."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Can you describe them?" Nancy asked the waiter, Gage, at the diner from earlier that day. Nancy had received a fax from her father on her suspects. Unfortunately there was nothing really interesting about the men, just vague descriptions. However, her father was able to find a lot of information on Sweet Rodriguez.

            Gage shrugged, "The men, not so well. One was tall, blonde hair, muscular. The other was average height, red hair, scrawny."

            _Exactly what the fax's descriptions say_. "How about the woman?"

            Gage's face brightened, "About five feet six inches. She was black, even though she has a Hispanic last name. She had amazing brown eyes, long, curly black hair..." The boy looked as if he was remembering paradise, "But she stood out a lot."

            "How?"

            "She was all gothic. She had on the all black, chains, skull earrings. You know the type?"

            Nancy nodded.

            "Well anyway, she's slender but muscular. Seemed really militant."

            "Militant? Did she look old enough to be part of the military?"

            "I'm not sure. The men looked like they were in their late twenties/early thirties, but the woman looked really young. It was almost as though she was still a teenager."

            "Thank you Gage. This is more helpful than you could possibly know."   

            "You're welcome!"

            Nancy took a card out of her pocket, "If you remember anything contact me at any of those numbers. The first is one to my dorm room, the second is my cell, the third is a number to my office at Headlines."

            "Alright, I'll do that."

            "Thank you." 

            Nancy left the diner with renewed hope, now all she had to do was meet with Michael so that they could research Sweet's medical files and maybe they would actually find her.

            The strawberry blonde made it all the way to Michael's apartment before her cell phone rang. 

            "Hello?"

            "Hi, it's Gage. I just remembered, the woman had a birthmark behind her left ear. it was kind of shaped like....." He tried to find a word, "Texas."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Wow," Joe said.

            "Just don't tell mom."

            "Why not?"

            "Sure Joe, tell mom I'm investigating a new terrorist organization that seems to be my teacher's pet project."

            "What I don't get is why your teacher would get you or dad involved if he wants to start a new terrorist organization."

            "Joe, I don't have all my facts yet but I'm working on answering those questions."

            "So is there anything I can do?"

            "Can you find information on the new terrorists for me?"

            "How do you spell the name?"

            "O-T-T-O, just how it sounds."

            "You know, they could have at least picked a more threatening name. Who's going to take the OTTO seriously?"

            "Hey there's an organization by the name of FARC down in South America."

            "My brother, the walking computer of useless information."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Vanessa this is a stupid game," Joe complained as he drove Vanessa and Biff to school.

            "I happen to like the license plate game."

            "But they all say New York," Biff pointed out.

            "Leave me alone."

            After a long silence Biff asked, "So what's up with your friend Sweet?"

            "What?" 

            "He means, which one of us does she like more?" Joe said.

            "How should I know?"

            "Well you two are like best friends already," Biff said.

            "Yeah, and you girls talk about everything," Joe added.

            "I really don't know," Vanessa told them, "I mean she has mentioned once that you two are cute, but that's about it."

            "She means me," Biff said, "She's just trying to be nice to Joe."

            "No way, I will not lose this b-" Joe stopped himself.

            "Are you two betting on Sweet?" Vanessa feigned shock.

            "Yeah," Biff said sheepishly, "but don't tell her."

            "Don't worry," Vanessa said in her best angry voice, "But only because I don't want her to feel like all she is worth here in Bayport is a few dollars."

            Joe and Biff were silent out of shame for the rest of the ride to the high school. They both missed the mischievous twinkle in Vanessa's eyes.

*                                  *                                  *

            "Sweet!" Vanessa yelled, waving her arms so Sweet would see her through the crowds of Bayport High School. Vanessa had ditched the guys in front of the school.

            "Hey," Sweet said as she pushed through the crowd. "Give me the update."

            "Biff and Joe accidentally let me 'find out' about their bet. However, I promised to not tell you."

            "Good, step one of our plan is complete. Now let's go find a soda machine, I missed breakfast." 

            As Sweet turned back around to face the crowds, she brushed her hair back.

            "Wow!" Vanessa exclaimed, "the birthmark on your left ear looks just like Texas."

*                                  *                                  *

            Michael and Nancy were seated under a tree on the Wilder University campus. 

Nancy finished filling Michael in on all of the information she had acquired.

            Michael ran a hand through his brown hair, "That at least gets us one step closer."

            "I also spent yesterday trying to get information from the local hospitals. I figured since the woman has diabetes she would have a regular doctor, or at least someone to prescribe the insulin. Unfortunately the hospitals wouldn't cooperate."

            "I thought the same thing," Michael admitted, "I found out that this Sweet woman doesn't get medicine prescribed from any doctors in the area. Or if she does she is using an alternate name."

            "Great, yet another twist in this case." She rested her head against Michael's shoulder.

            "And we don't even know what this case is about," Michael muttered in frustration.

            Nancy took a deep breath, "Let's think about this logically, why would these people be discussing their plans on a frat house roof?"

            "At least one of them could be a college student. Or the boss they mentioned could live on campus."

            "And how can two resourceful journalists find out where these people are now?"

            "We could ask the police to track them down. With all the times we have helped them over the past school year they owe us."

            "Right. So we'll do that and see where that takes us."

*                                  *                                  *

            Later that night:

            "Frank is it really necessary to be stalking your teacher?" Chet asked.

            "Yeah, don't you think you're going a little overboard?" Kimberly asked.

            The three of them were in Frank's car, a silver Toyota, watching Mr. Jaswall leave his classroom and get into his car.

            "What would you two suggest I do, ask him if he has ties to a terrorist organization? That might just tip him off."

            "If he's part of it." Kimberly pointed out.

            "I can't take the chance that he is."

            Chet watched in sheer boredom as the BLANK teacher placed books in his car's trunk. "How did you find out he had ties to the OTTO anyway?"

            "I was looking up his family name in a government file on my computer..."

            "Whoa!" Kimberly exclaimed, "A government file?"

            "Yeah, I'm great at the whole hacking thing. Anyway, I noticed that his father, Jeremy Jaswall, was put in military prison. I wondered what it was he could have possible done and as it turns out he was placed in the prison for attempted treason. Apparently he and his group, the OTTO, were planning to take over many different government organizations."

            "How were they planning on doing that?" asked Kimberly.

            "I don't know, it didn't say."

            Chet frowned, "Frank this doesn't prove that your teacher is dangerous, only that his father was."

            "That's what I thought at first, but then I read something interesting. The son of Jeremy Jaswall was killed five years ago. You can see how that would make me just a little suspicious."

            The trio watched as the teacher got in his car and drove off. Frank started his car's engine and followed.

            "Where is he going?" Chet questioned after half an hour of silence. "There is nothing important on this side of New York."

            "Maybe that's the point," Kimberly said, "Why organize in an area where you can be spotted easily." At Chet's confused look she continued, "If no one ever comes over here then they will never find out about the OTTO."

            Frank noticed his girlfriend's smirk. "Thank God someone other than myself thinks that name is humorous." 

            As Mr. Jaswall parked his car next to a brick building Frank did the same; just far enough so that his teacher wouldn't spot him, but close enough for the trio to see what Mr. Jaswall was doing.

            "What the Hell?" Kimberly muttered as the teacher climbed the buildings fire escape and crawled into the building through a third story window.

            Chet shrugged, "Maybe that's one of his...hobbies."

            "What kind of person crawls through windows as a hobby?" Frank asked.

            "No clue."

            After a few minutes the teacher crawled back out the window, holding a gold colored briefcase.

            "This just keeps getting weirder and weirder..." Kimberly muttered.

            They watched the teacher get into his car and drive off. Frank did not start his engine; instead he got out of his car.

            "Frank," hissed Chet, "What do you think you are doing?"

            "Stay there," he ordered his friend and girlfriend, "I'll be right back." However after taking three steps he heard the car doors open and shut behind him.

            _I should have known their stubborn natures wouldn't let them sit still._

            Frank slipped into an alley on the side of the building, allowing Chet and Kimberly to follow. He looked the side of the building up and down.  Every window was boarded up, the one door to the alley was boarded up as well. Frank saw that the dumpster in the alley was tipped over, empty, covered in graffiti.

            "No one uses this building anymore," Kimberly observed.

            "Legally anyway," Chet added.

            "So what was he doing here?" Frank asked, "There is obviously no one else here, otherwise he wouldn't have climbed in through the window." 

            With that Frank walked to the front of the building and climbed up to the third story window. Kimberly and Chet followed out of curiosity. All three climbed in through the window.

            Frank's eyes went wide as he took in what was in the room.


	6. Nancy's Day

A/N: Please keep sending me the reviews. I enjoy reading what people think about my writing. Please feel free to be brutally honest but please keep the reviews constructive.

Disclaimer: Alright I will admit it, I actually do own ALL of the characters in this fanfiction. Keene and Dixon actually stole them from me. HA! Kidding.

"A bride cries before a wedding. The groom cries after." (Polish Proverb)

Chapter 6-Nancy's Day (Friday)

            Nancy awoke the next morning with an overwhelming sense of dread. She looked at her clock, 6:30am.

            "Oh no," she muttered before burying herself underneath her covers.

            "Nancy!" Kara called cheerfully, "Time for your appointment with that psychologist lady, it's Friday."

            "I know!" Nancy yelled from underneath the covers.

            Nancy could feel Kara sit on the edge of her bed. "Well you might want to go, what with the state of Illinois thinking you're suicidal and everything."

            Nancy didn't want to have to argue with her hyperactive roommate so she simply got out of bed. She silently dragged herself to her closet to find some clean clothes to take with her to the bathroom.

            "Oh and Nancy," she heard Kara say behind her, "Michael called he said he needed to talk to you about something important, something other than the case."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Okay Nancy are you ready to get down and dirty with your thoughts?"

            Nancy looked at her psychologist with a disbelieving look. Rita VanBuren was dressed in a chicken costume, eating biscuits. "What's with the get up?" she asked her psychologist.

            "Oh, this," Ms. VanBuren motioned towards her costume, "is the inner me. What's the inner you Nancy?"

            Thoroughly confused, Nancy just stared.

            "You see, we all have animals that reflect the inner us. These animals represent the emotional truths behind our actions."

            "So yours is the chicken? What, does that mean you act out fear?"

            "No, no Ms. Drew. The chicken is one of Earth's most motherly creatures. It cares for its children, nurtures them, and keeps them in line. I do the same with not only my family, but my friends as well." Rita leaned forward in her chair, "Nancy we are going to figure out your inner animal."

            "How?" Nancy asked flatly.

            "First we will use these." As if out of nowhere, Rita whipped out six pages of paper covered in ink stains. "These ink blots should help me get through the first stage of your assessment."

            Nancy rolled her eyes.

            "Now Nancy," Rita said, "holding up the first inkblot, "What do you see? And it has to be the first thing that comes to mind."

            "It looks like blotted ink."

             "And this one?"

            "A skull."

            "Hmm," Rita looked at the blot, "I was thinking a rainbow. You know what? I think that is enough of the ink blots for one morning. Let's move on."

            Nancy giggled, she couldn't help it, watching a woman in a chicken costume make suggestions was more than just a little humorous.

            Rita looked at her patient, "That's the first time I've seen any expression on you other than hostility. Good. Now it's time for word associations!"      

            "Alright make it quick."

            "Now I will say a word and you will say the first thing that comes to mind."

            "I know how it works."

            "Alright, good. Let's start....Cat."

            "Black."

            "China."

            "Opium."

            Rita began to shoot the words out faster, forcing Nancy to answer much quickly, "Yogurt."

            "Yoplait."

            "Crime."

            "Case."

            "School."

            "Work."

            "Friends."

            "Protect."          

            "Father."

            "Anger."

            Rita stopped abruptly, "Ah we've done it."

            "Done what?"

            "Nancy it has become quite clear to me that you have more than one inner animal. But that is quite common in people like you."

            "People like me?"

            "Those who are confused about life, what they want to do in it, what they want from it" Rita shrugged, "Or simply those who don't appreciate it anymore."

            "Wait," Nancy said, "I do know what I want to do, and what I want from it. I have my life all planned out."

            "Really? Let's hear it then."

            "I am going to be a journalist, crack every major case wide open, and bring people to justice. All I want from life is a fair chance, that's it. It's not complicated, or indecisive." Nancy stood up angrily and leaned over the desk, "And I sure as Hell do not take life for granted."

            Rita sat back in her seat and grinned. "Bravo Nancy, you have let yourself express what you feel. I'm guessing you don't do that a lot. And as for your claim to knowing what you want from life, I doubt that. In the two sessions I have had with you, your body language along with your attitude towards my questions has suggested that you really do not know what you want."

            Nancy sat down, "Really and why wouldn't I know what I want? And what do you mean I don't express myself?"

            "Nancy this is usually the point in time that a conventional psychologist would tell you that you need to talk about it yourself, but I'm not a conventional psychologist. Don't deny the fact that you only majored in communications because you felt cornered. At first glance I couldn't understand why you feel cornered into one field of study. After all your high school transcripts say you graduated with an unweighted 3.6 GPA and an Honors diploma. You excelled in every subject. I just couldn't figure it out. Then I saw that on your transcript it also says that your father is a lawyer."

            "So what? You assumed I chose this profession to please my father?"

            "At first. Then I looked deeper, I found out that you were, or are, an amateur detective. Apparently you've been solving cases since junior high. At that point I figured out why you felt cornered, you've been in one field of work for so long that you feel obligated to stay with it. Nancy what you have to understand is that you are only 19 years old, you can't possibly choose your life's path right now. You need to give yourself time to think about what it is you really want to do. 

            "And Nancy you claim to want a fair chance from life. The same chance your mother got?" At Nancy's surprised look Rita went on, "I found out about your mother. How you were told to tell everyone that she died of cancer even though she died from..."

            "Stop!" Nancy ordered, "My mom died of cancer. There's nothing else to tell." She looked down at her hands clasped on her lap.

            "Nancy," Rita said gently, "you have to shake this other problem of yours; denial. You can't live the rest of your life in denial. You need to confront these issues you have with your father. Don't pretend you don't have these issues. I used the word Father in our word associations earlier and you responded with anger. What would make you angry at him? Is he angry at you?"

            When Nancy looked back up at Rita, Rita saw that she had pushed a little too far, "Look Ms. VanBuren, my dad is all I have left, don't try and ruin our relationship just because you want another 'cured' patient on your resume." 

            "Nancy.."

            "No, you will listen. I don't have problems, I am fine. I never felt suicidal, ever!"

            "Nancy I don't believe that you were going to jump off of that roof Tuesday night, but I do think you have issues to deal with. If you would like I could number them for you."

            "Oh please do," Nancy replied sarcastically.

            "Fine. #1-You have issues with your father. #2-You have a deep rooted sense of denial. #3-You feel like the world is a chore. #4-You don't like the path that you've chosen in life. #5-Emotionally, you are scarred. That's why you refuse to express yourself in any normal human way, this includes the lack of ability to love and let love. My guess is that's where your hostility comes from. #6-I know we didn't talk about this but Nancy you are one of the most depressed people I have ever met. You don't realize it but you are."

            Nancy stood up, "Ha! Depressed? Emotionally scarred. What you couldn't do better? For your information I happen to have a boyfriend, and I don't sit around crying all day so I couldn't possibly be depressed. You are so full of crap Rita VanBuren, I don't know why I'm wasting my time here!" Nancy stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

            Rita VanBuren watched, feeling an overwhelming amount of sympathy for a girl who had spent her whole life confused and denying herself.

*                                              *                                              *

            Nancy rushed over to Michael's apartment as quickly as possible. She had remembered Kara telling her that Michael needed to talk to her about something important, something other than the case.

            _I wonder what he could want to talk about._

            Finally she made it to his door and knocked. Michael threw the door open and smiled as soon as he saw his girlfriend. Wordlessly he led her into the apartment. Nancy took a seat on the couch. Michael sat next to her.

            "So what was important Michael?"

            Michael looked deep into her eyes before he leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was long, passionate, amazing. After a while Nancy pulled away needing air.

            "Well I'd say that is important," she said grinning.

            Michael smiled back. "Unfortunately I didn't call you here for that."

            "Really?" asked Nancy finding a comfortable position leaning against Michael.

            Michael smiled at their complete ease with each other. He had never known a relationship to ever feel as natural, so smooth. That was why it was so hard for him to say his next words, "Nancy I need to know what you're hiding from me."

            Instantaneously he felt every muscle in Nancy's body tense up. "What do you mean?"

            "Nancy I know you are hiding something. Remember I'm a journalist too, I pick up on everything."

            Nancy sighed before sitting up, "Michael I'm not going to deny that I am hiding something from you but it really isn't some big thing that you need to worry about."

            "So why hide it from me?"

            She was stumped.

            "Because it's about your past." When Nancy didn't deny it he continued, "That's it isn't it? You have secrets about your past that you don't want to tell me about."

            "Yes."

            "Well? What did you do? What did someone else do to you?" He looked deep into her blue eyes, "You can tell me, I won't judge."

            Nancy smiled, "I know Michael. I guess I should have told you at the beginning what you were getting into."

            "So tell me know honey. I'm listening."

*                                              *                                              *

            A few hours later Nancy was seated in her car, emotionally distraught. She had just explained everything to Michael. He already knew about her mother and her growing up with just her father and Hannah, but she had to explain everything about her father's profession, her own detective adventures, and even told him everything about Frank and Joe Hardy. Nancy even told him about her few encounters with the Network. Michael had taken it well, Nancy had expected him to be a little angry, after all she had hidden one of the largest parts of her life from him. No, he was understanding, loving. 

            Nancy took her cell phone out of her purse and dialed a number, "Hello Ms. VanBuren. You were right. Can I come over and talk to you?"


	7. Michael's Day

Author's Note: To all of you who were curious as to why I stopped writing, I had writer's block for the longest time but it removed itself this morning and these following five chapters just popped into my mind. Thank you to those of you who have posted your reviews. They really have helped more than you could possibly know. I wasn't even sure I was going to write more in this story until you all posted reviews!

            I'm not sure who made the offer to help me with ideas for my story (because they signed as anonymous) but thank you. Anytime I need an idea I'll be sure to ask. But for now can someone please send me ideas for names of characters? I suck at coming up with names. Kimberly's name comes from my favorite power ranger (don't act like you all didn't watch that show as children...or maybe you didn't and I'm just a loser), Sweet is the name of one of my closest friends, and I realized after re-reading my story that Jaswall and Griswald kind of sound alike. I'm stumped as far as names go.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! Nothing is mine! Nothing is mine! I'll keep repeating this until those corporate millionaires stop feeling threatened by those of us who write fan fiction.

Chapter 7-Michael's Day (Friday)

            Michael sat down at his desk late Friday night and started writing in a college ruled notebook:

            Man if Gus finds out that I keep a journal he will never let me live it down. But hey it helps me relieve stress.

            So I woke up this morning thinking about her. Nancy is always on my mind, whether I'm studying for a class, talking to a friend, or even sleeping. I've never met a girl with so much drive, so much potential. 

            I have to admit that I've never really wanted a woman with a mind of her own. I'm not a chauvanist or anything. Its just that after my mother died and my dad went through girlfriends and wives as if they were nothing, I felt like love wasn't worth it. My dad didn't even take two seconds to mourn for my mother, he acted like she hadn't even mattered, she was just a passing phase in his life. If my own father, the person I looked up to, didn't think love was worth it why should I? Of course I learned later from many counseling sessions in high school that my dad was only trying to deal with his grief the only way he knew how. That didn't change things. It was too late. I had lived with the same mentality since I was seven. I still tried to weed out every brainless ditz from the masses of girls at school. 

            The only person that has ever called me out on my choice of women is Nancy. Before we started dating, when we still hated each other, she told me that I dated the dumbest girls imaginable, even set me up with a friend of hers to show me the error of my ways. I didn't take her seriously though, I still hated her then. Why would I hate her? Well let's see, I saw her as bossy, irritating, driven, and everything I wanted. I kept denying to myself that I loved her. It wasn't until a fateful snowy day that I tried to make a move on her. We were stuck in a barn because of a blizzard, we ended up staying there over night and I tried to kiss her. Of course she freaked. But what was I expecting? I had spent the whole time we had known each other giving her a hard time.

            Anyway I called her to tell her I needed to talk to her but I got her roommate. I just left a message with her and left it at that. 

            After I got myself out of my Nancy induced trance I actually got ready for my classes. I meant to get to my first class early today, I really did, but I got sidetracked. On the way to Russian Literature I heard my friend Brad calling my name. I wasn't planning on staying to talk to him, what with already being late for class, but he started talking about Nancy. He told me that he thought it was great that I finally turned into a one-woman kind of guy, yadda yadda yadda. Then he said that he knew Nancy from somewhere. Turns out her dad is a lawyer and he defended a friend of Brad's family. Of all the conversations Nancy and I have had about our families the fact that her father is a lawyer, no, a famed lawyer, never came up. Why she chose communications as a major is clear to me now. She chose it for the same reason I did, to make my dad proud.

            Needless to say I did not pay attention in Russian Lit., World History, or Journalism. I needed to talk to Nancy. I needed to know what else she was hiding. When I called her before it was only because I wanted to talk about our relationship but....I don't know, we just need to talk.            

            I hurried home after my last class. Two minutes after I got home, Nancy rang my doorbell. I led her into my apartment. I wanted to get to talking about us but I couldn't help it, I kissed her. I really didn't want to stop but I got the feeling I was suffocating her. She just smiled and made a cute little comment. God, is that really me using the word cute? 

            For a second I found myself tongue tied, I couldn't help it. I dare any man to look into her deep blue eyes without feeling something. On second thought I don't want anyone else looking at her like that.

            Wow, way off track. Long story short I got her to tell me what it was she was hiding from me. When she was finished telling me her story I could understand why she wouldn't want anyone to know. It wasn't anything bad, she did a lot of amazing detective work on many dangerous cases with some friends and the Network. But still if I was her I wouldn't want people to know about all that. People would start to treat her differently and all that. Actually that was the reason she gave me, word for word. I believe her. Actually I believe that that was one of her reasons for not telling me sooner. I didn't push the subject though. I just decided to let it drop.

            Then we got to talking about her sessions. It was amusing, in all the years that I have been seeing counselors, psychologists, and therapists, not once have any of them dressed up like a chicken. I couldn't help feeling bad for my Nancy. She told me that her psychologist thinks she has issues with her dad and denial. I think there was more. I could tell by the look in Nancy's eyes. She'll tell me when she's ready. I know from all of my own sessions that it doesn't help when people force you to tell them what you talked about. Whatever she wants to tell me I will listen and I will not pass judgment.

            No, that's a lie. I will try not to pass judgment. I have to admit that I do think Nancy has issues with her dad. She has told me time and time again that she is uncomfortable with her dad dating this new woman, Avery. I was able to relate. And I know she has denial problems. I have seen it in so many people, my father and myself included, that I can spot it in anyone. 

            Nancy left looking happier. I love it when she's happy. I wanted her to stay but I knew she had a class to get to.

            Later on in the day a policeman we work with a lot, Officer Kruvuche, called me. Turns out he was able to track down Sweet Rodriguez. She's in Bayport, New York and was easy to trace because of her hospital records. I called Nancy's cell phone to tell her but she didn't answer. Officer Kruveche also informed me that Jack Maher and Berney Valleys had various addresses. The only ones that Kruveche could find were in San Francisco, Seattle, Maine, and one in New York.


	8. Joe, Biff, Vanessa, and Sweet's Day

"A tree only hits a car in self defense." (American Proverb)

Chapter 8-Joe, Biff, Vanessa, and Sweet's Day (It's still Friday)

            "Ugh, I hate school!" Vanessa exclaimed while driving to school with Sweet in the passenger's seat.

            "Who doesn't?" Sweet asked. "I know I would much rather be curled up at home, watching tv, writing poetry, or even cleaning."

            "Oh, how did your study date with Biff go?"

            "Perfectly. I flirted with him, he bought it, and now I have him hook line and sinker."

            "Good." Vanessa smiled evilly.

            Sweet shook her head, "You are a character. But I like it."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Yo Biff! How was that date last night!" Gary asked.

            First period P.E. was always interesting, especially the locker room conversations.

            "It went well," Biff said smiling.  

            "Well? That's it?" Asked the guy who had the locker to the right of Biff's.

            "Well it's not like anything really happened but let me tell you, Sweet is really into me. She was non-stop flirting, and touching. And at the end of the night when she had to leave, she kissed me."

            "I knew you would win over Joe," another guy said.

            "Excuse me? You knew what?" Joe had entered the locker room. "He hasn't won yet. She only kissed him. That means nothing."

            "What's wrong Joe? Jealous?" Biff asked.

            "No way Biff. You might have gotten the first kiss but she will be mine."

            "Whatever Joe, you are delusional."

            "Carson!" Gary called, "Seven dollars on Joe!"

            Joe and Chet turned to Gary, "You guys are betting on us?"

            "Yeah sure, why not?"

*                                  *                                  *

            Vanessa met Sweet at her locker before lunch. "So Sweet are you ready for the next part of our plan?"

            "Yup, teach those boys to bet on me. I still think it's funny that they think you only just discovered that they have a bet. They don't realize that we've known all along."

            The two girls walked to the lunchroom without noticing the blonde boy trying to hide behind a row of lockers. Joe raised an eyebrow, _So they know. But they don't know that I overheard their little conversation. This could be good._

*                                  *                                  *

            "I can't believe we have those two wrapped between our little fingers," Sweet said, "Somehow I thought they would be smarter than that."

            "Ah, sadly they're not," Vanessa said with false sadness.

            Sweet laughed. "I kind of feel bad though, we are playing with their feelings."

            Vanessa shook her head, "Sweet none of the girls at this school would be too heartbroken if they knew Joe and Biff were being toyed with. If you'd been here longer you would have seen them break almost every girl's heart." Vanessa heard her stomach growl. She got up from their grassy spot, "I'm gonna go get some chips, do you want anything?"

            "No, it's okay."

            "Alright then."

            After Vanessa left, Sweet noticed Biff walking towards her with a strange expression on his face.

            "Sweet," he said once he reached her.

            "Sit down Biff, it's hurting my neck to look up at you."

            He obeyed then went on, "I need to tell you something."            

            "What?" Sweet asked curiously.            

            "I want to be your boyfriend."

            "You've only known me for less than a week."

            "Yeah but I can feel it Sweet. You and I should be exclusive. I mean I know Joe likes you too but he's a major player. Do you really want to be with someone who will probably dump you after a few days?"

            Sweet looked stunned, "Biff I really don't know.."

            "No worries, just get back to me. Hopefully soon." He quickly kissed her then left.

            Two minutes later Sweet saw Joe walking towards her. He sat down next to her. "Hey Sweet I need to tell you something and before you interrupt me here it goes," He paused for breath, "I really think you are the best girl I've met in a long time and I was wondering if you would like to go out with me. If you don't I totally understand but get back to me, Vanessa knows my number and where I live if you need to contact me." He got up and left.

            As Joe left, Vanessa came back. "Did I miss something?"

*                                              *                                              *

            "I'm not sure I can go through with this Vanessa," Sweet admitted. "I feel really bad now."

            "Oh come on!" Vanessa exclaimed in the middle of one of Bayport High's crowded hall ways.

            It was the end of the school day and Sweet and Vanessa stood arguing in the middle of the hall. 

            "Of course not Vanessa! Not now that I know how they feel about me! It wouldn't be right!"

            "Fine," Vanessa ground her teeth together, "But this would have been the best thing you would have ever done for anyone!"

            As Vanessa stalked away, leaving Sweet to stand alone in the middle of the hall, Joe chuckled. He was well hidden behind the throngs of people trying to escape the building to start their party filled Friday nights. His plan for revenge on the two girls was working. He couldn't wait to tell Biff.

*                                              *                                              *

6:30 that night:

            "Joe! Your aunt and I will be at the Wilsons' house if you need us!"

            "Alright mom!"

            Joe was glad that his aunt and mother were going out. He wanted to be without parental supervision. He wasn't planning anything that his mom or aunt would disapprove of. In fact, he wasn't even planning on going out. He just wasn't feeling up to it.

            Three minutes after his aunt and mother left he heard the doorbell ring.

            _Who the Hell is it?_ He wondered grumpily. 

            He walked over to the door and opened it, "Sweet?"

            "Hey Joe," she said bashfully, "I was wondering if you wanted to, I don't know, hang out or something."

            Joe took in the sight of Sweet standing in front of him in tight black jeans and an even tighter black half-shirt. "Sure."

            As she came in and said, "I was thinking about what you said, I really would like to go out with you. The only thing is, I know Biff wanted me to go out with him and I don't want to be cruel to either one of you."

            Joe shrugged as he led her to the living room, "Biff is a big boy, he'll bounce back."

            Sweet sat on the couch, "I hope so, because between the two of you I would definatly choose you."

            Joe grinned as he sat down next to her, "Really? And why is that?"

            "Don't get all smug Joe. To tell you the truth, I thought you were cute from the moment I saw you that night when we were breaking into the school." She locked eyes with him for a moment before looking away. "Anyway, what do you want to do?"

            "X-Men's showing on Fox tonight."

            "Oh good! I love the X-Men. This is going to make you think I'm a total nerd but I collect the comics. I think I have every X-Men comic from the 80s through last month!"

            "Really!" exclaimed Joe, "I collect all the series that center around the X-men!"

            "So do I! What's your favorite series? Mine is the X-Treme X-Men. It used to be the Uncanny X-Men but then my favorite characters left to become the X-Treme X-men!"

            "No way!" Joe exclaimed, "I love the X-Treme X-men, they're my favorite group of X-Men too! Who's your favorite character?"

            "Rogue!"

            "No way! Mine's Gambit! I guess that means we really are meant to be together." 

            Sweet smiled, "I've never met another person into X-men as much as I am. Usually I get the standard 'you're too old to read comic books' speech."

            Joe laughed, "My brother Frank has given me that speech soo many times it's not even funny." Joe reached for the remote control tuning into X-Men just as it was about to start. "You want popcorn or something?"

            "Sure. I can't pass up any opportunity for food."            

            "Thank God, then I won't look like a pig while I'm eating." Joe was back in five minutes with popcorn, various bags of candy, and six cans of Coke. "Feel free to take of your shoes and put your feet up on the couch." He did so himself as though he was trying to show her that it really was alright.

            Sweet complied and began to help Joe finish off the food.

*                                  *                                  *

            Biff sat at home, bored. Joe had told him that he didn't want to go to any parties. He had sounded aggravated and serious so Biff hadn't questioned him. Now Biff wished he had. He was sitting cross-legged on his floor arranging his CDs in order of his favorite genres and alphabetized the CDs in their genres. He had already reorganized his closet in order of type of clothing and its color, and cleaned the bathrooms in his house; he was running out of things to do.

            "I got it," he said to himself as he finished reorganizing his CDs, "I'll go see how Joe's doing. But first I'll weed the garden out back, I might as well earn some brownie points with my parents."

*                                  *                                              *

            Four chilli dogs, eight slices of pizza, and eight bags of candy later:

            Joe and Sweet were curled up on the couch, still watching X-Men.

            "See this is the part that I don't like about the movie," Sweet told Joe, "the way they suddenly lose their accents."

            "Yeah," he agreed, "the acting was a little uneven. And I didn't like that they didn't tell the audience that Mystique is Rogue's mother."

            "But they changed so much in the movie, like Rogue having a relationship with Bobby..."

            "Which would never happen."

            "...that I don't think they even cared anymore if they left out important facts."

            "I'm still upset that Gambit isn't in the movie. I heard a rumor that he'll be in the second one though."

            "Let's hope so, maybe it'll start a love triangle."

            "We should go watch the movie together when it comes out May 2nd."

            "That sounds good."

             They were both silent as they watched the X-Men battle one of their foes. When the movie finally ended Joe got up and stretched. Picking up the empty bags and dirty napkins he announced, "I'll be right back, just gotta clean this stuff up."

            When he got back however Sweet was nowhere to be seen. "Sweet?" 

            _Where could she have gone? _

            He heard a noise coming from his bedroom. Confused he walked up the stairs and to his room. Opening his door he saw Sweet going through his dresser. It looked like she was actually smelling his clothes. "Sweet?"

            The girl jumped and turned around guiltily, slamming the dresser shut in the process.

            "What are you doing?"

            "I, uh, got lost on the way to the bathroom," she said lamely.

            "Well I could show you the way," Joe offered.

            "Um, good idea but I have to go home now."

            "Let me show you to the door."

            Joe walked the girl to his front door and frowned when she left. 

            _What was that about?_

            When he was about to go back to the living room to finish cleaning he heard the doorbell ring. Opening the door he saw Biff and Vanessa. Without asking to be let in they walked into his house.

            "Was that Sweet I saw walking away?" Vanessa asked.

            "Yeah. Jealous?" Joe teased.

            "Joe did you catch X-Men?" Biff asked.

            "Yup." Joe answered, closing the door and following his friends into the livingroom.

            "You're such a dork," Vanessa said.

            "Hey Sweet likes the X-Men too, "Joe said in his own defense.

            He watched as his friends sat on the couch and started to eat the remaining candy.

            "I thought you said you didn't want to go out," Biff said, "was that a cover so that you could spend more time with Sweet?"

            "No, she came over on her own." Joe joined them on the couch.

            Vanessa frowned, "She did?"

            "Don't look so surprised Vanessa, she's obviously fallen for the old Hardy charm."

            Vanessa rolled her eyes. Then spotted something on the floor. She picked it up. "Um Joe I didn't know any female in your family liked the Red Hot Chilli Peppers."

            "What?" Both Joe and Biff asked.

            Vanessa showed them what she had found, an all black purse with several band names scribbled on it. "Or maybe you've grown a soft spot for women's accessories."

            "Shut up. It must be Sweet's," he took the purse from her and opened it.

            "Dude what are you doing?"

            "Biff haven't you ever wondered what women keep in these things?"

            Vanessa slapped Joe's hands, "That's an invasion of privacy."

            Joe ignored her and opened the purse, "What the...." He took out several of his possessions including a matchbox car, a Nascar key chain, keys that he had found, among other things.

            Biff and Vanessa looked over his shoulders, surprised.

            "Joe, there's got to be a good explanation," Biff reassured.

            "I don't think so." quickly he told his friends what had happened shortly before Sweet had left.

            "Dude that's just weird. Forget good explanation!"

            "Whoa wait!" Joe exclaimed. He turned and looked at Vanessa, "Are you behind this?"

            "What!" She exclaimed shocked. "Why would I do this?"

            "Look I overheard you and Sweet earlier today, saying that you couldn't believe Biff and I hadn't figured out already that you two had known about the bet even before I accidentally let you know about it."

            Vanessa looked at Joe sharply, "I'll admit that we were planning revenge on you two but earlier today we dropped our plans because Sweet got cold feet. She felt guilty because you two have genuine feelings for her."

            "Yeah, I heard that conversation too," Joe admitted.

            "Geez Joe, have you just been stalking us?"

            Biff spoke up, "Stop arguing. Aren't you two worried about this purse full of Joe's stuff?"

            "Of course we are!" Vanessa exclaimed.

            "The girl is some kind of lunatic!" Joe added.

            "No, not lunatic," a soft voice said from behind them, "Just friendly."

            All three teenagers jumped off of the couch and turned to see Sweet holding a butcher's knife. 

            "S-Sweet," Biff stuttered, "How did you get back in here?"

            Suddenly the lights went out, they turned back on in two seconds flat but Sweet had vanished.

            "D-don't panic," Vanessa said, "Maybe she routinely tours people's houses around 9 at night with a butcher's knife."

            "Vanessa that doesn't make me feel better." Joe looked around nervously, "We have to find that psycho!"

            "Joe there is no way I'm looking for a girl with a butcher's knife!" Biff exclaimed.            

            Vanessa gripped Biff's hand tightly, "I'm with you."

            Joe looked flustered, "But she could be anywhere in the house!"

            The lights flickered again.

            "We should stick together," Vanessa whispered.

            Joe and Biff complied, staying close to Vanessa. They heard the phone ring and looked at it.

            "S-someone should answer it," Biff whispered.

            Joe nodded and as a group they headed towards the phone. "Hello?" 

            "Joe," Sweet said in a sing-song voice, "you can't get away."

            Joe hung up the phone, "Oh my God the girl is nuts. She just told me I couldn't get away."

            Vanessa's eyes went wide, "Joe we should leave the house, now."

            All three ran to the door but when they got there they found that they could not open it.

            "What the heck is going on!" Biff exclaimed in a panicked state.

            "I don't know!" Joe broke out in a cold sweat.

            "W-we should get a weapon," Biff suggested.

            "Good idea," Vanessa proclaimed.

            The three of them hurried to the kitchen as the lights flickered rapidly, creating a slow motion effect making it harder for them to search the kitchen for any kind of weapon.

            "It's no use!" Vanessa exclaimed, "the knives, can openers, they're all gone!"

            "What is she planning?" Joe asked no one in particular.

            The phone rang again.

            "I am so not answering that," Vanessa announced.

            "Neither am I," Joe and Biff said in unison.

            "Well some one has to," Vanessa said after a long moment of silence. "It could be someone who could help us."

            Joe hurried to  the phone and picked it up but by that time the person had already hung up. "Crap."

            "What if it was her?" Biff asked shuddering.

            The phone rang again, Joe picked it up after it rang for awhile. "Hello!"

            No dial tone, no answer.

            "Please if you are there answer, we're stuck in a house with a madwoman!"

            Joe heard nothing on the other end. He quickly hung up, "She's messing with our minds now!"

            "Man!" cried out Biff as the lights finally went out, "It's only 9pm, I could be at a party or something but instead I'm here being hunted by some chick!"

            Joe felt something around his neck and was alarmed to find that it was a rope. He attempted to call out to his friends but found himself being strangled in the darkness unable to save himself. 

            "Joe?" Biff called, "Where did you go? I can't see you in the dark."

            Before Biff knew what was happening, a piece of duct tape was put over his mouth and someone had tied his hands and legs together.

            "Biff?" Vanessa called out in a shaky voice.

            Biff tried to call out to her but found himself unable to yell through the bag in his mouth. He was thoroughly terrified. Joe lay on the floor beside him, also tied up. He couldn't warn Vanessa because the strangulation, obviously not meant to kill him, had left him weak. 

            Suddenly the lights turned on and Joe and Biff saw Sweet and Vanessa on the floor....laughing.

            Both boys looked at them confused.

            Sweet smiled and let them free of their bonds. Vanessa continued laughing.

            Biff's jaw dropped, "Is this your idea of a joke?"

            Vanessa nodded through her tears. "You fell for it bad!"

            Joe and Biff stood up, thoroughly confused.

            "Wait," Joe sad, "I heard you two call off the whole prank thing!"

            Sweet rolled her eyes, "You heard what we wanted you to hear."

            Vanessa continued, "Joe both conversations that you heard were part of our carefully calculated plans. We planned for you to hear them then tell Biff."

            Joe just looked at his ex-girlfriend in disbelief, "So you never intended on calling off the prank."

            "Joe," Biff said, "I'm pretty sure that's what she just said. But what I'm confused about is how you knew I would be over here. How did you know I would be here to scare?"

            "We didn't," Sweet admitted,  "Our primary objective was to scare the crap out of Joe. We wanted to punish him."

            "Because we knew he dragged you into the bet," Vanessa finished.

            "B-but the flickering lights and the door not opening and you getting into the house," Joe stuttered.

            "I manipulated the electric wires in your house and the doorknob is tied to a tree on the outside. As for me getting in, windows are easy to get open." Sweet gloated.

            "So where are all the sharp objects from Joe's kitchen?" Biff asked.

            Vanessa smiled, "In your dresser Joe."

            "But when I was tied up I swear it was a man that grabbed me." Biff said.

            "Yeah me too."

            "My dad's a colonel in the Air Force, he taught me many martial arts skills that I utilized tonight to hurt you two."

            "And the phone calls."

            "Actually," Sweet admitted, "I called you from my cell phone but those last two were purely coincidental. I only called you once."

            Joe frowned, "So if you didn't call then who did?"

Note to those who are unfamiliar with the X-Men comics....Rogue and Gambit (also known as Remy) are soul mates and that's where Joe's comment comes from.


	9. Frank's Day

A/N: Anything in bold refers to captions, don't worry you'll understand when you read the chapter.

Disclaimer: Oh come on do we really have to go through this again?

"You can lead a boy to college but you can't make him think." (Anonymous) 

Frank's Day (Friday)

            Frank awoke Friday morning in Kimberly's dorm room. He had spent the night before trying to make sense of what he had seen in the abandoned building. 

            "Good morning sweety mumbled the voice beside him."

            "Good morning Kimmy."

            Kimberly rolled over to look Frank in the eyes. "I know you're worried about all that.....stuff you saw in the building but I'm sure there's an explanation for it."

            Frank laid on his back in silence. How could his girlfriend say that? 

            "Frank?" Kimberly said tentatively.

            He opened his eyes, "Kim, I have to go."

            "What?" she sat up, "Go where?"

            Frank was already getting dressed, "Just somewhere."

            Kimberly watched as her boyfriend left her room in a hurry.

*                                  *                                  *

            Frank walked around campus in a dazed confusion. His mind kept going back to the building. He made the decision to climb in through one of the windows to see what was in the building. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting but it wasn't what he had gotten. In the room were four walls covered in photos. Not just any old photos, they were of the Hardy family. 

            The photos were arranged in a timeline, starting with the birth of Frank Hardy. As the timeline progressed, Frank saw that every event in his own life and his brothers had been photographed. Underneath each photograph was a caption, telling what the photo was about. Frank had read some of these captions, they ranged from "Frank gets first C on science test," to "Hardy family picnics in park (1995)." Frank paled as he realized that these pictures had to have been taken without their knowledge and that whoever took the pictures must have been following the Hardy family around for the last nineteen years. The most chilling photo was of Iola Morton unlocking the door to what would become her death sentence. Frank could feel his heart stop as he reached over to touch the photo, almost as if to make sure it was really there.

            Frank shook his head, continuing his meandering walk around the campus. He couldn't make sense of what he had seen. He couldn't understand why anyone would document his and Joe's lives. He was fairly certain it documented only their lives. The only time any of the captions made mention of the rest of the Hardy family was when either Joe or Frank were with them.

            "Hey!"

            Frank had been so lost in thought that he hadn't watched where he was going and ran into someone. "I'm so sorry," he apologized as he kneeled down to pick up the books the person had dropped. "I didn't mean to.." His voice trailed off as he finally looked up at the person he had run into, Callie.

            "Frank, you need to get your heads out of the clouds."

            *Clouds, Callie.* Frank's mind made connections as it helped him remember something. One of the captions under a photo had read Callie and Frank watch clouds.

            "Frank!" a voice called impatiently.

            "Huh? What?"

            Callie looked at him worriedly, "What's wrong?"

            "Nothing Callie, don't worry."

            Frank worries about english exam.

            Frank shuddered.

            "Okay now I know something is wrong, you look totally out of it." Callie led Frank to a table outside of the student store. After forcing him to sit down she asked, "What new case has you all shaken up?"

            Frank looked up at Callie slowly, "How do you know it is a case?"

            She grinned sadly and spoke softly, "Frank I know that look in your eyes, after years of dating you I have been able to decipher it."

            For the first time, Frank realized Callie was holding his hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. Callie blushed and dropped his hand.

            "Really though, what's wrong?"

            "I..I don't know if I should tell anyone. I mean I would like to but..." he paused at a loss for words. "I'm just confused."

            "It's okay," Callie assured him, "I know that when you need to tell someone you will." She kneeled down so that she was at eye level with him, "But for now just know that everything will be okay. Everything is fine, just solve this case and the murderer, thief, whoever, will not be able to hurt anyone ever again."

            Frank smiled and looked Callie in the eyes, suddenly all the reasons he had loved her came rushing back. "Thank you, that helps."

            "No problem Hardy, just let me get to class and we'll call it even."

            "Class? I thought you were only visiting."

            "Actually, I transferred here at semester. That's right, I am an official NYU student."

            "Well I guess I'll be seeing you around then?"

            "Yeah, see ya Frank."

            Watching Callie walk away, Frank couldn't help but feel confused. Hadn't she just been flipping out on him a few nights ago?

            Joe and Vanessa have fight after relationship ends.

            *Crap. I need to tell Joe.*

*                                  *                                  *

            "Sorry Frank, your brother isn't home right now."

            "Thanks aunt Gertrude, just let him know I called."

            "Frank, is there something wrong?"

            "No, just wanted Joe's advice on something."

            "Is it that Kimberly girl?" Gertrude asked crossly,"I always knew that girl was trouble."

            "No," Frank smiled at the familiarity of his aunt's usual cross tone. "It is about a new case."

            "Francis Alexander Hardy you are in college to earn a degree, not solve everyone else's problems. I order you to take care of your own problems before taking on any cases. Is that understood?"

            "Crystal clear Aunty."

            "Good. Now talk to your mother." Gertrude handed the phone to a patiently waiting Laura Hardy.

            "Hi, how's my college boy doing?"

            Frank loved the sound of his mother's voice. "I'm doing fine Mom. I miss all of you though."

            "We miss you too.You better be planning on coming home this summer, you didn't come home for spring break."

            "I wouldn't dream of going anywhere else this summer."

            "Good honey because we all really miss you, especially Joe. He doesn't have his older brother to bother. Between you and me I think he feels a little lonely. Even if he does have Biff, Vanessa, and Sweet."

            "Sweet?"

            "Yeah a new girl in town. I think Joe is really taken with her."

            Frank chuckled, "Don Juan at work huh?"

            His mother laughed, "Looks like it."

            "Well Mom I would love to talk some more but I have to get back to working."

            "Alright sweetheart, take care of yourself. I love you."

            "Love you too, bye."

            "Bye."

            "Awww, loving moments with the family."

            Frank turned to see Callie standing in his doorway. "Hey, how did you know where I lived?"

            "Maybe I picked up a few detective skills from you." She grinned smugly. "Well that and I live right down the hall."

            "Really? Then I can actually talk to you from time to time." Frank immediatly wondered if that was a good thing. After all, this was his ex-girlfriend. After thinking for awhile curiosity got the best of him, "Callie what is going on between us."

            "What do you mean?"

            "I mean at the party you were ready to rip my head off, you were acting all..."

            "Crazy." Callie finished for him.

            "Well I was going to say high-strung. But crazy works too."

            Callie walked over to Frank and sat next to him. "Frank I know I was acting a little odd but you have to understand where I'm coming from.."

            "I tried but I couldn't figure out why the woman who broke up with me would be mad at me for something."

            She looked away from him, "Did I ever tell you why I broke up with you?"

            "You said you wanted to be free when you got to college. Didn't want to be tied down the rest of your life." 

            She looked at him, "I lied. Frank it never had anything to do with wanting to date other men. It was all about pride." She saw that Frank was confused. "Frank I fell in love with you because you're smart, sensitive, creative, handsome, fun, and everything I was looking for. But loving you always came with one drawback. I had to share you with everyone else. I had to share you with everyone who wanted help, everyone who had a problem, I shared you with Joe, Biff, Chet, Vanessa, and God knows how many other people." She stopped for air, "And I always prided myself for being able to put up with it all. I thought I could make being the last person on your list work, I was wrong. Frank after awhile I couldn't even talk to you anymore. You were off halfway around the world solving case after case."

            "Callie, " Frank interrupted, "I never meant to...."

            "Make me feel that way. I know." She smiled and gave a small laugh, "And we still finish each other's sentences. Frank I had to break up with you for both our sakes. I needed someone with me at all times. You needed to find where you wanted to be. I was angry about it for a while but I got over it, at least I thought I did. When I saw you at the party all the angry, aggravated feelings came back. I'm sorry."

            "No," Frank said, finally seeing the woman he had loved, "Don't be sorry Callie. I did deserve to be dumped."

            "Frank," Callie's voice was so soft he could barely hear her, "I still love you."

            "I love you to," Frank said then kissed her.

            "Woah, maybe I should come back later."

            The pulled apart guiltily.

            "Chet!" Callie exclaimed as she ran over to give her old friend a hug.

            "Callie! I didn't even know you were in town. Last I heard you were in Virginia."

            Callie stepped back to get a better view of her friend, "I transferred here at semester."

            "Really?" Chet asked brightly, "That's great, now I can see two of my best friends while I'm visiting New York."

            "You go to Penn. State right?"

            He nodded, "This reunion calls for a celebration at Burger King. How about it Callie?"

            "Sure."

            Chet looked at Frank, "You're paying."

            "Whoa! I'm not going to attempt to fill that bottomless pit of yours."

            "Oh come on. I need all the money I can get to buy enough gas to go back up to Pennsylvania."

            Frank rolled his eyes, "Just this once."

*                                  *                                  *

            Later that night Frank tried calling Joe again. This time the phone just kept ringing, no one bothered to answer it. Frank looked at his watch, 9pm, Someone should be home. Finally Frank hung up his portable phone and left the room to continue finding clues to his case. At least he thought he had hung it up. Frank didn't realize it but he hadn't hit the "hang up" option on his phone hard enough to actually hang it up.

For anyone who doesn't know, Frank can be short for Francis. I happen to like the name Francis more than Franklin so that is what I used.


	10. Nancy's Day Part 2

Disclaimer: Woo Hoo! I'm a poor high school student with nothing!       

Interesting fact: Thomas Edison was afraid of the dark.

Chapter 10-Nancy's Day Part 2 (Yup it's still Friday)

Rita Van Buren heard a knock at her office's door. "Come in!"

            Nancy entered with an expression that could only be described as guilt, on her face.

            "Take a seat," Rita, no longer in her chicken costume, motioned toward a chair. "You sounded incredibly upset on the phone."

            Nancy took her usual seat and looked Rita directly in the eyes. "Look, I hate being wrong more than anything else in the world, I'm just that anal. However I have to let you know that you were right about me. I am a mess."

            "What brought about this realization?" Rita asked, amazed, but not surprised, that Nancy could be so straightforward.

            Nancy sat back and released tension from her shoulders; "I was talking to my boyfriend today. You see I am, or was, an amateur detective before I started school at Wilder University but I never told Michael, my boyfriend, about it."

            "By amateur do you mean 'sometimes helped the local police'?"

            "Sometimes, but I usually dealt with high profile cases all over the country. Sometimes I would get the opportunity to go out of the states to solve a crime."     

            "Alright just getting the facts straight, continue."

            "Well after I told him all about my stint as a detective I was expecting him to be mad at me for not telling him about all of it. Actually I was expecting him to yell at me, hit me, do something."

            Rita looked at Nancy with a concerned look in her eyes, "Has he, or anybody you've known, been physically abusive towards you?"

            "No,"Nancy admitted. "It was the minute I realized he was supportive of me and wouldn't do anything to hurt me that I realized I really do have a problem with emotions. I began to think that maybe you were right, I am emotionally scarred."

            "Why do you think that is Nancy?"

            Nancy sighed, "I don't really know."

            "Did your dad ever show emotion towards you?"

            "Yes."

            "You don't sound so sure."

            "I know he tried his hardest to show me that he loved me. It couldn't possibly have been easy raising a child on his own." Nancy smiled sadly, "He was supposed to be with my mom forever." She looked up at Rita, "Do you know what it says on the bands of their wedding rings?" Rita shook her head. "He had 'Our love until the end of time' inscribed in Latin. They didn't even get five years." Nancy looked down at her hands rested on her lap, "He didn't even bother to keep remembering her after she died."

            "Why would you say that?"

            "He didn't ever mention her after she died and anytime I did he would get angry. But it was that silent anger not 'yell until your face turns red' kind." Nancy looked back up at Rita, "All I wanted was something to hold onto of my mom. Do you have any idea how horrible it feels to have your memories of your mother disappear a little more every day? I can't even remember what she was like anymore, I was incredibly young when she died." Rita watched as Nancy's expression turned from one despair to one of turbulent angry emotions. "And now he doesn't even acknowledge that she ever existed. No, forget Elizabeth Drew! It's all about Avery now!"

            "Is Avery his new wife?"

            "No, just some tramp he's dating!" Nancy looked ashamed of herself the minute she said that.

            "No," Rita said, "that is your problem. Whenever you start to express yourself you feel guilty. Nancy I'm here to listen to you, just express yourself anyway you want to."

            "It's just that she's everywhere now. Last time I went home to visit my dad she came over on a daily basis and monopolized his time. Every time I asked my dad if he wanted to rent a movie or go out to eat it would be 'Nancy, Avery wanted to go watch a play' or 'Nancy, Avery wanted to go jogging.' He used to call me Nance, or Princess, or Honey...not just plain old Nancy, not that I mind him dropping the Princess but he doesn't even care anymore."

            "Nancy when you start thinking stuff like that what do you do to suppress the emotions."

            Nancy ran a hand through her strawberry-blonde hair. "I usually think of how selfish I am being, how I am being some evil bitch. If that doesn't work then I start thinking about what I need to get accomplished that day."

            "Nancy have you ever gone for a period of time without a boyfriend?"

            Nancy was surprised by the question, "Wow I didn't see that question coming. But to answer it, no. Since I was 15 I think I've always had a boyfriend." Then she added sourly, "Except the times I've been dumped."

            "You say that incredibly angrily. Why?"

            "My first boyfriend at Wilder, Jake Collins, dumped me for this pretty little Russian girl. Well to be honest we had broken up more or less out of mutual agreement but he went on to the most gorgeous girl in the world. I didn't really date after that because, and this will sound so very pitiful, I felt like I wasn't really attractive. The other guy, Ned Nickerson, grrr I could just tear his head off!"

            "What happened?"

            "I dated him longer than I've ever dated anyone. I thought I could always trust him but he cheated on me, several times."

            "Did you know about it during the time you were dating?"

            "Yes, which is what makes it so very pathetic. The first time he cheated on me was back in high school, with this tall, model-like girl. When he went off to college he continued with the cheating. I caught him a few times and he even flirted with girls right in front of me but in the end I always just shrugged it off. What really pisses me off now is that he dumped me after we'd been dating a few years because he thought I was being a little distant and distracted by my cases. We got back together but we broke up when I began school at Wilder. He believed something one of the girls that lives in my dorm told him. She told him I was cheating on him and the idiot believed her! You know what I'm most angry about!? He didn't ask me if it was true, just went with what she said! And even if I had been cheating on him, he had been doing the same to me for years!"

            Rita observed her patient become more and more riled up with every word. This was good, let the girl get all those bottle up emotions out. "Nancy do you think you only held on to Ned because he was the affection you had been missing for years?"

            Nancy stopped to think about this,"I think so. It would explain why I never just cut him loose. But it might have just added to my need for affection. Rita for awhile now I've been wondering if I keep my emotions in check because I want people to like me."

            "When I asked you about friends in the word association game earlier you said they were a chore. Do you bend over backwards for them Nancy?"

            "I don't really know."

            "Have you ever told them you wouldn't help them with something Nancy? Or do you help them with everything no matter how it inconveniences you?"

            "I'm not really sure, I've never really thought about it."

            "That's fine, just wanted you to get thinking about that. Now, I need to know just what kind of depression you have."

            "Depression? Whoa, I wouldn't go that far."

            "Fair enough Nancy. Just humor me with these questions though. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep or at some random time?"

            "Yes."

            "Was it over regular teenager and child stuff?"

            "No, I cry over nothing really. I'm not even sure why?"

            Rita noticed that Nancy had not answered the question with a past-tense answer. "Have you ever been having fun with friends and out of nowhere you start to wonder if anything was really worth doing?"

            "A few times."

            "Have you ever experienced a lack of sleep or appetite for no particular reason?"

            "When I turned 16 I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to eat. It got to the point that I could see the bones in my body. I could see some of my ribs and my collar bones were too defined."

            "Did anyone notice?"

            "No not really. I just made sure I wore clothing that hid the areas where the bones were most visible. When my dad did mention that I hadn't eaten anything at dinner or that I looked a 'tad bit tired' I would just tell him my physics class or something was taking a lot out of me. Of course that would make him proud, his little girl working that hard."

            "Nancy you are definatly clinically depressed. The crying for no apparent reason is usually a from of passive aggressive behavior. You don't act on your emotions the minute they pop up, you shove them into the back of your head to deal with them at a m ore convenient time. Bottling up your emotions like that causes random crying or overwhelming feelings like ones that would make you question if anything was worth doing. The lack of sleeping and eating is a direct result of being depressed. You must be a great actress if you could hide all of that from everyone you know."

            Nancy nodded in silence.

            "Now the two things we haven't really talked about are your denial and not knowing what to do with your life. My guess is that they come from bottling up your emotions and wanting to please everyone."

            "Don't bother guessing, I can probably tell you what it is exactly. Denial is just easy," she admitted. "I think of a lot of times it made life easier. I used it a lot when I was around my friend Frank Hardy. I tried to pretend I wasn't attracted to him. Didn't always work but it made life easier. And when I saw flirt with other girls in Amsterdam and San Francisco I pretended I wasn't jealous. It was easier to pretend I didn't have any attachment to him. People you are attached to only end up disappointing you anyway."

            "Nancy I know denial can seem easier at times but it creates problems. And the quick easy fix is never the best solution."          

            "You know what I just remembered?"

            "What?"

            "Ned cheated on me with one of my best friends, Bess Marvin." When Rita raised an eyebrow in interest she conitnued, "Well not really cheated but they developed feelings for each other way too soon after Ned and I had broken up for goo. I walked in on them while they were in an intimate embrace and I just couldn't help but feel betrayed. I could accept Ned cheating on me for years, but not with one of the few people I trusted more than anyone in the world." She paused to take a deep breath, "And how am I supposed to know what I want to do with the rest of my life? I don't know what I want."

            "Nancy I am elated that you have come to realize that you have some problems that you need to resolve. I do need to know, however, if you would like to work through them."

            Nancy frowned in confusion, "I thought I had no choice but to come here at least once a week."

            "Actually," Rita said, "in the file the police department gave me it only says that you have to come to a psychologist until you admit that you have issues of any sort." Rita folded her arms across her chest. "So Nancy it is totally up to you where you go with your issues next. You can either walk out of here and never lay eyes on me again," Rita shrugged, "Or you can come back here for further appointments in which I would be helping you work through any issues that you are not sure how to deal with."

            The strawberry blonde twirled her thumbs as she weighed the choices. "I want to come back to get help."

            "Good," Rita smiled. "I know you can be rid of all that has been weighing you down for all these years."

*                                  *                                  *

            Nancy reached the door of her dorm room, after a late study session at the library, with a light feeling she hadn't felt in years. She felt as if the whole world had finally let go of some of the sharp hooks it had kept in her soul for the first 19 years of her life. 

            _Demons be gone_

            When she entered her room the aroma of lilacs and mango greeted her. Her roommate was burning incense in a butterfly shaped incense burner. Nancy loved the smell.

            _Thank you Kara_

            She dropped her books at the foot of her bed, brushed her teeth, crawled into soft cotton PJs, and crawled into bed. She stretched out and hit the playback button on the answering machine on her nightstand. 

            Beep. Nancy we need to leave for New York City as soon as possible. We have a lead on the case.

            Nancy smiled; she loved hearing Michael's voice. And New York, she missed the city. She definitely would not mind going back there. 

            Feeling better than she could remember feeling, Nancy decided to call her dad. She just felt like she needed to hear his voice, tell him that she loved him. She dialed her dad's number quickly, she waited anxiously to hear her father or Hannah pick up the phone. She couldn't wait to hear her Dad's deep-soothing voice, or Hannah's motherly concern. 

            "Hello, Drew residence."

            Nancy frowned, recognizing Avery's voice.

            "Hello?" 

            Nancy sat still, saying nothing. 

            "Hello. Who's there?"

            Nancy felt tears threaten to come spilling out of her eyes. She quickly hung up the phone and curled up, crying herself to sleep.


	11. Fenton's Day

Disclaimer: Do you think the publishers would care if they saw a fanfiction without a disclaimer?

Interesting fact: Lincoln died in Ford Theater, JFK died in a Lincoln manufactured Ford. 

Fenton's Day (Friday)

            Fenton stepped off of his plane in Philadelphia with less enthusiasm than he had ever felt while working on any kind of case. With only a carry-on suitcase, he immediately left the airport and found a cab to take him to the nearest hotel possible. He didn't even take the time to admire the beauty that Philadelphia provided. All of his concentration was on the task at hand.

            The taxicab stopped in front of a nice four star hotel that the FBI was paying for. Fenton didn't even notice how nice the hotel was. As if he was a robot he paid the cab driver, checked in, and went to his room. Once in the room he opened his suitcase. He took out his laptop and a few files. 

            One the top of the files were the words BLACK WIDOW. Fenton sighed; this was going to be the worst case he had ever worked on. And the worst part was that he had already worked on it about seventeen years earlier. At the time he  thought that he had solved the government's problems, he thought that Black Widow would never be a part of his life ever again. 

            Fenton sat on the bed reviewing the facts from the case. He didn't really need to, the events from the case were still vivid in his mind, unfortunately. But it was proper procedure. After an hour of reading, reviewing, and making notes, Fenton turned his laptop on. He immediately logged onto a government website, he had clearance from the FBI to do so. He found the information he was looking for, highly classified information on one of the most dangerous criminals Fenton had ever had to catch.

            _Well, well Jaswall, I see your son and only child has died. I guess Evil really does get what's coming to it._

            Fenton put his laptop away after reading about a few more people. He picked up his phone to call Agent Griswald.

            "Hello?"

            "Agent it's Fenton. Where is this partner you promised me? I'm not working this case alone...not again," Fenton shuddered as some memories came flooding back.        

"Don't worry, his plane's just delayed. He is flying in from Illinios, there could have been a snow storm or something"

            "Well he better get here soon."

            "Don't worry Fenton, he will be there."

            Fenton hung up without saying bye. He didn't care if it could be conceived as rude. He was angry at the FBI for sticking him with the case and if he felt like taking it out on Griswald then that's what he was going to do.

            Knock, knock. 

            Fenton walked over to the door and opened it. "It's about time."

            "Sorry," apologized the man at the door, "my plane was.."

            "Delayed. I know." Fenton closed the door as soon as the man walked in, "But Agent Vlores, you should have called me to let me know."

            "But my cellphone doesn't work at that altitude."

            "There's always a laptop, I know you government types carry them around everywhere, you could have sent an email," Fenton knew he was being unreasonable but he didn't care.

            "Look," the Agent said holding up his hands in surrender, "let's get started on the case and all will be good."

            "Fine," Fenton muttered. "Pick up the files on the bed, you're new to the case you need to catch up." Fenton said as he walked towards the door.

            "I've read the information, I have a copy," Agent Vlores protested.

            Fenton turned around in annoyance, "You have the official FBI files, I have the more detailed ones."

            "And what will you be doing while I read these."

            "I'm going to see about renting a car. You didn't expect to walk around Philadelphia did you?"

            "No, guess not," muttered the Agent knowing this would be a difficult case.

*                                  *                                  *

            Fenton and Vlores stood in front of Grassroots.

            "So this is the place where they noticed the 'disturbance'."

            Fenton looked at Vlores and shook his head. Why were the younger agents such idiots? "Just put your gloves on Vlores, we don't want to leave fingerprints. And make sure you take plenty of pictures, we might need them as evidence."

            Vlores and Fenton entered the one story, shut down club. The club didn't look like it had shut down. In Fenton's eyes it could have just been closed for the day. He observed the several wicker chairs sitting at glass tables. On each table stood a stained glass candle holder, most did not have candles in them.

            "Are you sure the club shut down three years ago?" Vlores asked.

            Fenton looked at his partner, annoyed. "That's what Griswald said. And according to the city's records the club went bankrupt."

            "Strange." Vlores walked up to what could only be the bar. He ran a finger over the cold, purple, marble counter top. He held his finger up to his face. "Fenton there is absolutely no dust in this building."

            The older man looked surprised, "How could that be?" Looking at the walls he saw that the red wallpaper had been left in tact. Not even one tear. "Vlores maybe some one is still using the building for something."

            "And they decided to make it neat and tidy?" Vlores asked incredulously.

            Fenton shrugged. "I've heard of stranger things happening. Let's not forget what kind of case we're working on."

            Vlores took the point, their case was definitely stranger than a clean criminal. After searching the building for hours Fenton was becoming frustrated. There was no sign of a disturbance and even less of a sign that project BLACK WIDOW was involved in any way.

            "Vlores," Fenton said, "Have you found anything?"

            Vlores shook his head, "Not so much as one scratch, sign of a struggle, nothing. What kind of disturbance did the local police say was observed here anyway?"

            "They weren't too clear. Some locals just heard some odd noises and the police didn't bother investigating because, as you know, this club is government property and..." Fenton's eyes widened in understanding.

            "Fenton?" Vlores asked as his partner's voice trailed off.

            Fenton's face became bright red with anger. Vlores wasn't sure if he should bother the man.

            "Vlores the reason this club is still clean is simple, the government is still using it to create their superhumans!"


	12. New York

Author's Note: Yeah I've been gone for a long time but I have an excuse….work and school took up way too much of my time, but hey I've got one of them out of the way so hopefully I'll have more time for fanfiction. Also, in Frank's Day there are parts where he is remembering the captions he saw under the photos, they were supposed to be bold but for whatever reason they didn't come out that way. Hope it didn't confuse anyone.

Disclaimer: I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, although I would like to. And while we're at it I would like to own Linkin Park, NERD, Wilmer Valderrama, Aaron Lohr, James Marsters, Shawn Ashmore, Hugh Jackman, Tyrese, Mekhi Phifer……

Chapter 12-New York (Saturday…finally)

"Nancy," Michael whispered softly.

            Nancy slowly awoke from her deep slumber. Michael grinned at her disheveled appearance; the strands of strawberry blonde standing on end were definitely priceless.

            "Nancy, honey we're landing."

            She stretched in her seat. "Already?"

            "What do you mean already?" Michael asked as his girlfriend put on her seatbelt, "For those of us you decided to stay conscious throughout the flight..."

            "Alright smartass, I get it."

            "Good morning," the pilot's voice boomed, "and welcome to New York City. The low today is approximately 75 degrees the high is 85. It should be sunny for the next few days but there is a little chance of rain. On behalf of American Airlines I want to wish you all a great time in the Big Apple. Hang tight and we should be landing shortly. Thank You."

            "So how can we so sure that we need to be here in New York and not in one of the other cities Jack Maher and Berney Valleys seem to love hiding out in."

            Michael looked at Nancy, "I took a look at their bills. They constantly have to pay off their electric and gas bills here in New York, whereas with their other homes they only pay their bills about once or twice a year."

            "That doesn't explain why they were on a roof on the Wilder Campus just four days ago."

            "Yeah, that's got me stumped too. But hey at least we have a lead right?" 

            "Right." Nancy sighed, "So their place is near the NYU campus."

            "Yup. So who was that friend you said you had that lives on the campus?"

*                                  *                                              *

            "Frank if you don't hurry up I'm going to leave without you!" 

            "Geez Callie just have a little patience." Frank yelled back, pulling on his pants. "Honestly that girl is insane," he muttered to himself. He reached over to his door and pulled it open.

            "Finally."

            Frank rolled his eyes. "Hey I had to take a shower and all that. You didn't want me to come out here smelling like, well like Joe."

            Callie laughed, "Hey he usually smells good, it's just all his extracurricular activities..." she stopped when she noticed Frank staring at her, "What?"

            "You've smelled my brother?"

            "What? Getting jealous?" she teased.

            Frank blushed then grabbed her hand, "Come on we're late."

            "Don't you have to pick up Kim?"

            "She'll meet us there."

*                                              *                                                          *

            "Man is it too early to be awake on a Saturday morning." Joe moaned.

            "Stop your bellyaching," Gertrude snapped, "You're not the only one who was dragged out to the middle of nowhere at six in the morning."

            Both were sitting in Laura Hardy's car, waiting for Laura to decide where to park.

            "Oh stop you two. You're acting like children." Laura chastised.

            "Mom, you brought us out to a flea market in the middle of nowhere at six in the morning. What were you expecting?"

            "Hey this will be fun," Laura insisted as she parked her car.

            "Famous last words," muttered Gertrude.

            Laura rolled her eyes, grabbed her purse, and got out of the car. "Come on I know you two will find something you like."

            Joe's eyes locked with Gertrude's in the rear view mirror, they shook their heads in unison.

*                                  *                                  *

            "Come get your authentic Native American blankets! Native American blankets sold here!"

            Joe rolled his eyes as dozens flocked to the vender. 

            _What saps._

            The blonde looked around him, his eyes taking in the endless rows of green tents, each one filled with it's own flea market wonder. So far Joe had seen absolutely nothing of interest. He ran his hands through his hair in agitation.

            "Man, pushing thumbtacks through my eyes would be more fun than this," he said to no one in particular.

            "Really? I always thought that would be slightly painful."

            Joe turned around to see Sweet standing with her hands on her hips. He grinned sheepishly, "Yeah well at least I wouldn't be bored out of my mind."

            "Yeah sure Hardy."

            "What are you doing here anyway? I got forced into coming, what with my mom being the flea market queen."

            "I actually came out of my own free will."

            "Good Lord why? I mean after that stunt you and Vanessa pulled last night I already that that you were crazy but now I think your downright psychotic."

            "Hey us crazy people have to shop somewhere. Actually I'm here to see if I can find a comic book stand."

            Joe's eyes grew wide with excitement, "They sell comics at these places!"

            "They did at the flea markets around L.A. and Vanessa told me to take a chance on this place."

            "Uh oh, you're taking Vanessa's advice?" Joe asked.

            "Yeah, why?" Sweet asked cautiously.

            "Well isn't she the same person who told you that scaring me and Biff to death would be funny?'

            Sweet grinned, "And it was. Now come on, let's find comics."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Aw man Chet I totally remember the time...."

            Frank sat back and tried to relax at The Bistro, listening to Callie and Chet reminisce. 

            "So what happened next?" Kim questioned.

            "Well," Callie grinned evilly, "these two idiots decided it would be funny to..."

             Frank laughed and nodded in all the right places not really caring to pay attention, his mind wandering to the pictures he'd seen the night before. He couldn't help but wonder if the psycho that took the pictures was following him around still.

            "What do you think Frank?"

            "Huh?"

            Kim squeezed Frank's hand, "We were thinking about ordering a salad for all of us."

            "That sounds good."

            "Are you alright? You've been kind of out of it," Callie commented.

            "Is it those pictures?" Questioned Chet.

            "Pictures?" Callie asked.

            "Yeah, um, well..."

            Callie glanced around the table; Frank and Chet were visibly upset while Kim was unfazed. "Spill it Hardy."

            "Well," Frank began, "I've been on this case for a the past few days now. You see one of my teachers is convinced someone is trying to kill him so I started sleuthing and I came across this building...."

            Callie watched as immense clouds of fear built themselves up in Frank's eyes. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Frank," she whispered, "whatever it is you can tell me."

            "This room, in the building it had a bunch of pictures," the brunette took a deep breath before meeting Callie's eyes with his own, "pictures of Joe and myself. It, it was like a timeline."

            "What? How is that possible?" Callie asked wide-eyed.

            "I'm not sure," Frank admitted, "But it was really creepy cuz these pictures start from our baby years and as far as I can tell the 'timeline' is a work in progress. And as if that wasn't enough there are captions under all of the pictures."

            "Look Frank," Kim interjected in an annoyed tone, "I already told you there probably isn't anything to worry about. Now can we drop this, I'm here to eat." With that said the girl turned her attention to her food.

            The three other people at the table just stopped to stare as Kim continued eating calmly. Frank opened his mouth then shut it, thinking better of actually saying anything. Instead he stormed out of the restaurant.

            Chet looked after Frank's retreating figure in shock, never had he seen the detective so angry. Chet stood up to go talk to his friend but he felt the restraining pressure of Callie's hand on his arm.

            "No Chet, I'll go talk to him."

            Nodding, Chet sat down. After watching Callie follow Frank's path he looked at the longhaired brunette sitting across from him, apparently enjoying her diet cola. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

            "What?" Kim asked, confused.

            Chet looked at her with as much contempt as he could muster, "You just disregarded your boyfriends feelings, like they weren't even important enough for you to register in that arrogant little head of yours."

            "Look Chet, I was just being honest, I don't think this is anything to be worried about. Besides, he has other things to worry about, like whether or not to get his girlfriend a present for her upcoming birthday."       

            Dumbfounded, Chet stared at Kim, "You don't think a lifetime stalker is anything Frank should be worried about?" Before the woman could answer he rushed on, "And he should worry about your birthday? Just what kind of greedy little, emphasis on the little, person are you?"

            She rolled her eyes, "Whatever Chet, I was raised to believe that I am a princess and should be treated like one. And if you are through asking stupid questions I am going to leave." She got up to leave, dropping three dollars on the table to cover her drink. As she walked toward the door she yelled back, "Oh, and nice try with the short joke!"

            "Man what a piece of work," Chet muttered to himself.

*                                  *                                  *

            "Frank! Frank wait!" Callie yelled as she ran to catch up. Despite the crowded New York sidewalk she managed to keep track of Frank.

            "Callie I really don't feel like talking."

            Callie fell into step beside her ex-boyfriend, "Frank I really don't know what to say, I've never seen you angry. Well not this angry. Nevertheless, you have to talk to me. Trust me, talking helps."

            Frank stopped abruptly and turned toward Callie. "Callie there isn't anything for us to talk about, I'm pissed off at my girlfriend, that's all."

            "Oh yeah, 'that's all'. Why are you trying to act like it wasn't a big deal? Doesn't it bother you that your girlfriend doesn't care that someone is stalking you and might even be planning to kill you."

            "Kill me? Crap I hadn't even thought of that."

            Callie winced. _Nice work_ "Frank if you want my advice you should just dump the girl, she is totally wrong for you. What did you ever see in her anyway?"

            "Did you hear that?" Frank asked, suddenly alert.

            "Don't try and change the subject."

            "No, really. Someone's calling my name." He looked around but couldn't see anyone who might know him.

            Callie looked around as well. "I think you're getting paranoid now."

            He shook his head as if to clear it out of unwanted junk. "Maybe you're right but I could have sworn I'd heard a voice."

            "Frank!" A voice exclaimed.

            Frank turned around in shock only to find Nancy Drew standing behind him with her hands on her hips.

            "Man are you deaf, I've been shouting your name for the last few minutes. I got three other guys named Frank come up to me and ask what I wanted."

            Frank's face lit up as he smiled. He gathered the strawberry blonde in his arms for a bear hug. When he finally let her breath he asked, "What are you doing here?"

            Instead of answering Nancy rushed past him, "Callie! Hey I haven't seen you since the last time I was in Bayport." #1

            "Yeah I know and that was ages ago. You still owe me a trip to the mall."

            Frank watched as the girls hugged. "Mall? Never mind. Nancy what are you doing in New York? Shouldn't you be at school in Illinois?"

            "Yeah I should but I came out here for a.."

            "Case." Frank and Callie finished in unison.

            "Yup. I'mherewithMichaelwe'reworkingonthiscrazystoryforHeadlinesandwehad juststoppedtoeatwhenIsawyoustandingouthere." #2        

            "Wow, you said that all on one breath," Callie said amazed.

            "What can I say? I got a lot of sleep on the plane and then made the mistake of pumping myself full of caffeine."

            "Frank! Callie! Nancy?"

            All three turned to look at Chet running toward them.

            "No way! Chet? What are the odds that I would see you too?"

            "Nancy? Shouldn't you be in..."

            "She's on a case," Callie explained.

            "Yeah. Oh I should probably get back to Michael or he'll think I got kidnapped or something." She made eye contact with Frank, "I have so much I want to tell you, call me at the Swenson Hotel, Room 112."

            "Alright, but only if you'll listen to the details of my case."

            "Cool. I'll see you all later." With that Nancy ran back across the street to a small restaurant.

            Callie frowned, "Wait a minute. Who is Michael? And what is Headlines?"

*                                  *                                  *

            "Are you kids going to buy anything or what?" The grungy, balding, cashier asked.

            Joe looked up from the rack of comics he was going through, "Chill out man, we're just trying to find comics that we really like."

            "Yeah," Sweet piped up, "And you know we are your only customers right now. Would it kill you to be nice?"

            "Whatever," the cashier grumbled, "Just don't go stealing anything."

            Joe rolled his eyes. "Hey Sweet I found the Rogue comics."

            "Really?" Sweet perked up, "Which series?"

            "The first one."

            Sweet rushed over to Joe's side. "No way! I've been looked for that series."

            "I wonder what other wonderful surprises are on these racks."

            Three hours later the teenagers stumbled out of the comic tent with more comics than they could really hold.

            "Man," Joe said, his voice slightly muffled by the comics in his face, "My mom is going to be pissed when she finds out how much I spent today."

            "Yeah, my dad's going to kill me. But as long as I have my comics..."

            "Man now I'm gonna haveta find my mom and get her car keys cuz there's no way I'm gonna be able to carry these around."

            "No worries, I'm borrowing Vanessa's truck. Just put them in her truck, I'll bring them over to your house later."

            "Sounds good to me."

            The two of them carefully maneuvered their way around the hordes of people in the flea market and finally found their way to the gravel parking lot.

            "Now, where did I park?"

            "You don't know?"

            "Let's see, I parked next to a large hippie van..." her voice trailed off. "Oh wait, I remember."

            Ten minutes later they were returning to the flea market without their comics.

            "I'm hungry, let's find a place to eat."

            "Shouldn't you look for your mom? Won't she be a little worried? It's been like three hours."

            "Nah, she spends at least six hours at every flea market we've ever gone to."

            "Six hours! How can you stand it?"

            Joe was about to answer when he heard the snap of camera shutter. Frowning he looked around, seeing no one he turned back to Sweet. "Usually I just sleep in the car but since you're here I think I'll stay awake."

            "Thanks..I think."

            "What can I say," Joe said, putting his right arm around her shoulders, "You are too interesting to pass up. By the way, has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyelashes?"

            "Thanks and no," Sweet laughed, "Has anyone ever told _you_ that you have bitable earlobes?"

            Joe sighed, placing the back of his left hand on his forehead feigning sadness, "Sadly people have only commented on the left earlobe," his face brightened, "but alas this fine young woman has spoken of the other ear!"

            Sweet laughed, "Joe you are honestly one of the most original..." her voice trailed off yet again, this time noticing that Joe had dropped his arm from her shoulders and was now frowning and looking around. "Joe are you looking for something?"        

            "I keep hearing a camera shutter or something." 

            She placed a hand on his bicep, "I'm sure it was nothing."

            "But..." 

            "Joe it was nothing!" Sweet's voice rose so suddenly Joe had to take a step back.

            _Man do I not want to get her angry._

            Click

            "See! There it is again." Joe spotted a cluster of bushes to his far left. "I think it's coming from those trees."

            "Joe, you are imagining things," Sweet chastised crossly, folding her arms over her chest.

            Without a word Joe ran towards the bushes. Had he bothered looking back he would have witnessed the look of sheer horror on Sweet's face.

            "Joe! No!" She realized her screams were futile as Joe dove into the bushes, encountering a man dressed in blue garb.

            Joe wasted no time pinning the mysterious man to the ground. "Now tell me who you are!"

            Sweet watched in horror as one single thought reared it's ugly head in her mind. _Oh no, he's gonna find out._

__

#1-I'm not sure that Nancy and Callie have ever met.

#2-Let's assume that Nancy kept in touch with Frank and Joe and that she's told them all about Michael and her show Headlines. 

**A/N: I apologize for the short chapter; maybe the next one will be longer.**


	13. Mysteries Collide

Author's Note: Anything in bold should be a caption that Frank is remembering. Hopefully it will actually come out in bold on the website. Oh and I have gotten complaints about Sweet, something about her being annoying. Really? I modeled her after one of my eccentric friends and I would never have thought she could get on anyone's nerves. Ah well, just tell me what you all find so annoying about her. Ah yes, and italics in the disclaimer DO NOT indicate thought.

Disclaimer: 

In a large diner, Joe sits in a checkered white and red booth 

Joe (eating large sandwich): Pookie can see that (takes another bite of sandwich and talks through the food) she hasn't convinced you all that she doesn't (swallows) actually own any of Dixon or Keene's characters. Actually (takes another bite and again attempts to talk through food) I don't even know that there ever was a Carolyn Keene, wasn't that a pen name?

Frank enters the diner dressed in an Armani suit. He sees Joe sitting at the booth and walks over to him

Joe (looking up in surprise): Frank what are you doing here?"

Frank: Well Pookie could see that you were doing a horrible job at trying to convince the readers that she owns none of this so she sent me, the more responsible brother.

Joe: Oh (nods in agreement). (Looks at his brother in confusion) how come you have an expensive suit?

Frank (grinning): Joe this is the fictional world. The author provides us with whatever she wants.

Joe (hurt): How come I don't get anything?

Nancy walks into the diner and immediately takes a seat across from Joe 

Nancy (rolls eyes): Joe, Pookie gave you the sandwich because you like to eat.

Joe: Aw come on Pookie, Frank got an Armani suit. And Nancy (looks at Nancy)..Is that a diamond necklace!

Frank (calmly): Joe there is no reason to get all jealous.

Joe (whining): But I want something, anything!

Two gorgeous models suddenly appear, sitting on either side of Joe 

Joe (grinning): Now this is more like it!

Frank (frowning): What about your new girl in the story? Who's secret by the way is that..

Nancy (cutting in rather rudely): Frank let him find out in the story!"

Joe: No! I want to know now!

Frank (apologetically): Sorry, you'll have to find out in the story....

Chapter 13-Mysteries Collide (Saturday)

            "I won't ask you again!" Joe yelled, "Who are you?!"

            The man, his face buried in the gravel, had a hard time answering.

            Sweet ran up to Joe, "Joe, just leave him alone! He didn't do anything to us!"

            Joe turned his eyes to Sweet, "He was snapping photos of us!"

            "How do you know that? Maybe," she scrambled to find an excuse, "maybe he was….taking pictures of the natural habitat!"

            "Right, in the middle of nowhere, at a flea market!"

            "Mbfrg," came a sound from the cameraman.

            Joe flipped him onto his back, "Talk!"

            The man looked at Sweet, "Hi Miss Rodriguez."

            "You know this creep?" Joe asked.

            Sweet scratched the back of her head. Joe took note of this nervous reaction.

            "Well, I don't really know him..."

            "Well he sure seems to know you."

            "Miss Rodriguez, could you kindly ask your friend to kindly remove his knee from my ribcage?" the man asked.

            "Shut up Victor," she snapped at him.

            "I thought you didn't know this guy," Joe questioned suspiciously.

            "Look," she scratched the back of her head again, "I really don't know him."

            "Right," Joe said incredulously, "He's just some guy that you are on a first name basis with."

            _Aw man I am so screwed_ Sweet thought to herself. She took a deep breath to compose herself then said out loud, "Joe this guy doesn't mean any harm. He was taking pictures of me and just happened to get careless and got close enough for anyone who was with me to hear."

            If there was ever a picture of confusion, it would have been Joe at that very moment. "So this guy is taking pictures of you?"

            "Well its more like stalking. He follows me around because my dad asks him to. See my dad and I have trust issues and I don't really care anymore about this clown because I've gotten used to it," she looked at her shoes, "and I didn't want to tell you because I thought it might make you too uncomfortable to hang out with me."

            Sweet watched as all the information registered in Joe's head. "So he wasn't trying to hurt either of us?"

            Sweet kneeled down so that she was eye level with Joe. "No."

            He ran his hands through his blonde hair then looked Victor in the eyes, "Alright, I'll let you go," Joe stood up to let Victor stand, seeing for the first time that Victor was a short, balding man with small eyes and an upturned nose. Joe promptly took the camera out of Victor's hands, "You can go, but not the camera. Is that understood?" The man nodded, "Good, now leave."

            Joe and Sweet watched as the strange little man ran as fast as he could to get away from the blonde with the killer knee.

*                                              *                                              *

            "So we're here in New York following a lead, now what?"

            Michael kept his eyes fixed on the road in front of him as he drove their rented Saturn, "We try and find these guys or at least a trace of them. Then we head down to Bayport to find Sweet."

            "Easier said...yadda yadda."

            "Hey at least we were able to get the location of Jack Maher and Berney Valleys' home here in New York City."

            "Which kind of bothers me because it was too easy."

            "Yeah that bothers me too but at least we're getting somewhere. And this will make a great story for Headlines."

            "Michael how are we going to make a story about a case that we don't know about? We don't know what they are planning or why. You know, I'm starting to think I made up that whole conversation on the roof," Nancy looked at Michael, "yes sweetie I am that crazy."

            Michael laughed, "Nancy, relax, you can't succumb to frustration."

            "Hey frustration makes the world go round, I saw it on a bumper sticker."

            Her boyfriend grinned, "I thought that was love."

            "Love, frustration, all the same thing," Nancy teased.

            Michael placed a hand over his heart, "You've mortally wounded me," he regained a serious composure, "tell you what, after all this is done it'll just be me and you on vacation somewhere away from Wilder."

            Nancy smiled, "and what about school?"

            "School? Who needs it? As long as I'm with you I don't need anything else."

            Nancy laughed, "You lay it on thick you know that?"

            "You know you love it. Oh we're here. You remember our cover right?"

            "Yeah, yeah. Did you remember to bring your hidden camera?"

            "Oh crap," Michael muttered as he parked the car, "I knew I forgot something." At Nancy's murderous look he quickly added, "it's in the trunk, I was kidding. You know, ha ha and all that."

*                                  *                                  *

Flashback to the day before

            "Superhumans?"

            "Yes Vlores," Fenton said, no bothering to fight the irritated tone in his voice.

            "But that wasn't mentioned in any of the files I read."

            "A lot of things weren't mentioned in those files."

Back to the present

            "So when will we get there?"

            "Vlores you have asked me that so many times I might just strangle you."

            "Sorry," Vlores sighed. Fenton had explained all that hadn't been in the BLACK WIDOW files and why the FBI had so tactfully left the information out. Although the original BLACK WIDOW case had been confusing Vlores had to admit that after hearing all the details he was at least able to understand why it had been named after a deadly spider.

            "Look, when we get to FBI headquarters don't say anything." Seeing that his younger partner was about to protest he continued, "I realize you work for them but please don't say a word."

            Agent Vlores rolled his eyes. Fenton had insisted on immediately heading to the FBI headquarters in Philadelphia after finding that the club had still been in use but Vlores had stopped him, pointing out that it was too late to really find anyone that could help, they were probably all at home, enjoying dinner with their families. Fenton had agreed to put it off for at least one night and explore the club some more.

Flashback

            "What are we looking for now Mr. Hardy?"

            "Something, anything."

            "Real descriptive," Vlores muttered under his breath.

            "Vlores," Fenton said as he moved to the other side of the room to search for clues, "I have two young sons, they do that all the time, don't assume I won't hear."

            Vlores felt his face heat up and began to search for clues as well. _Why not start with the floor?_ He got down on his hands and knees and searched every inch of the floor. _man there is nothing here. Wait a minute... _"Mr. Hardy," he called, "should there be broken glass in here?" 

            "What?"

            "Come here!"

            "Vlores if this is some stupid joke..." Fenton kneeled down next to Vlores, "Holy crap. Vlores I think you've found something."

Back to present

            What Agent Vlores had actually found was a shard of glass from what might have been a some kind of cup. When the two investigators had the shard analyzed at a private lab they'd discovered that it had some kind of orange residue on it. The scientist in the lab had theorized that it might have been some kind of alcoholic beverage but couldn't be too sure until she ran more test on it.

            _But why would the club, even if it was being used to build so called superhumans, still have alcohol?_ Fenton wondered as he drove.

            "Are we there yet?" Vlores whined.

            "Vlores if you don't stop whining I'm going to stab you with a rusty nail."

*                                              *                                              *

            Michael looked at his surroundings, everything about it said money; the gold trimmed vase in the corner holding precious African violets, the mirrors in gold frames, even the rug seemed to scream "PAWN ME!" Michael rolled his eyes _and this is just the elevator._

            Nancy leaned against the back wall of the elevator patiently waiting to reach the penthouse apartment of Jack Maher and Berney Valleys. Neither detective dared to talk, not wanting to risk having their conversation taped. Both were convinced the elevator was taped. 

            Finally the elevator stopped. When the doors opened they were greeted by a graying butler, "Good day, are either Master Maher or Master Valleys expecting you?"

            "Yes," Nancy spoke up, "we are the students from NYU assigned to do a story on the wealthy men of the house for our journalism class." Nancy had to admit it wasn't the most creative cover she had ever thought of but it just seemed to make the most sense. "My name is Rachel Winiwitz and this is my partner Christopher McDaniels."

            "Ah!" the butler's eyes brightened, "Yes Mr. Maher has been looking forward to this all day. Just follow me."

            The two detectives stepped off of the elevator and into what seemed to be a waiting room. Under their feet was an expansive floor of polished marble. Surrounding them were walls made of what had to be real wood. What made the walls incredible were the designs. Nancy's eyes traveled over the twirling designs until she became dizzy. Michael meanwhile was taken with the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Nevertheless they followed the butler into the next room. 

            This room was most obviously the living room. Three leather couches were positioned beautifully in front of a gigantic flat screen television. To the left they saw a bar, complete with bottles of alcohol neither of them could possible afford.   

            "Wait here," the butler said, "Mr. Maher doesn't like to be interviewed in his office." With that the butler left.

            Nancy and Michael sat on one of the couches.

            "Um..N-Rachel, what exactly do you think it is they do"

            "Well I guess that's why you are interviewing me, to find out every little detail."

            Nancy and Michael jumped at the sound of a booming voice behind them. They politely stood up and introduced themselves.

            "I know who you are," Jack Maher laughed as he made his way over to his bar, "hardworking local students. Would you two like anything to drink?"

            "I'm fine thank you," Nancy replied.

            "Same."

            "Alright, your loss. By the way Valleys will not be joining us today as he is elsewhere on a business trip, " Jack Maher was all grins as he made his way over to one of the couches. "Sit," he ordered. They did as they were told. "Alright, now what would you like to know?"

            Nancy took a tape recorder out of her purse, "Do you mind if we record this?"

            "No, anything for a pretty young woman."

            Michael had to admit, for a guy that might be a criminal of some sort Maher was very relaxed. "Alright, our first question. What is it that you do exactly?"

            Maher leaned back, "Well I guess you could call it human relations. We make sure relations between certain agencies, usually government, are okay."

            "How and why?"

            "We do this with government because, well it has come to our attention that in the past certain cases could have been solved by the FBI, CIA, etc. but because they don't seem to get along they fail to work together and in the end don't really get anywhere. However, with regular businesses, which admittedly is where we find the most business, we are the middleman. We smooth out any ruffled feathers so that two companies can either merge successfully or simply cut a deal that both are happy with. 

            "As for how, it will take me a long time to explain that but lets just say we are very convincing people."

            Nancy asked the next question. "How many people are actually involved in this business, other than you and Mr. Valleys."

            Maher waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, "Oh I'd say about thirty or thirty-five people working under us. We like to keep the business small so that we all make more of a profit."            

            "Where do you do business?" Nancy asked.

            "Seattle, San Francisco, L.A, Philadelphia, Florida, just to name a few."

            "Have you ever done business in smaller, less business conscious communities?" Michael asked.

            "Yes, we actually got called up to a little city in Idaho once."

            _Not the answer I wanted_ Michael thought. "Have you done business in small towns such as," Michael pretended to search his brain for a city, "Bayport?"

            "Actually yes."

            "Really? I've been there before," Nancy said, "Not much there."

            Maher laughed, "Rachel you are funny. Of course there isn't much there but customers are customers."

            "So what exactly is the name of this business you run?" Nancy asked, "We were only given yours and Valleys names and sent out here."

            "Flounder's Corporations."

            Michael raised an eyebrow, "is there a reason you gave it such an offbeat name?"

            Maher laughed for the second time, "Actually the name was chosen by Valleys. I'm not sure why he chose it but it does help people remember us."

            "So...your work with the government," Michael began, "can you give us a specific example of something you have done for any politicians?"

            "Well as you know tensions between Republicans and Democrats is at an all time high..."

            Nancy stopped listening, instead choosing to observe body language. One of Maher's arms was rested on the arm of his seat, the other lazily wrapped around a drink, his eyes sparkled like the diamonds on his custom Armani watch, the businessman was more than comfortable talking about his source of income, too comfortable to be a criminal.

            "..so I tell the House, get this, I tell them to move the bill faster or I would make sure the FCC was shut down."

            Nancy tuned back in in time to laugh politely in unison with Michael. "Well thank you for your time Mr. Maher but we really should get going if we're going to write and edit this paper on time."

            The three stood up at the same time. 

            "Well it has been a great interview," Michael said, shaking Maher's hand, "but my partner is right."

            "No problem," Maher told him dismissively, "if you two have any other questions just feel free to contact me. And hopefully Valleys will actually be here next time. Now if you'll excuse me," Maher said, taking a sip of his drink, "I must get back to the paperwork sitting on my desk. I trust you know your way out."

*                                  *                                  *

            "So get this, her dad actually spies on her because he doesn't trust her and she puts up with it."

            "She puts up with it?" Biff asked, "She doesn't seem like the type of person to put up with anything that doesn't go her way."

            Joe switched the phone he was holding from his left to right ear, "Yeah but I guess she and her dad have had way too many conflicts in the past and she just wants to ignore them or something." After the eventful morning, Joe was happy to be resting on his bed with his best friend on the phone.

            "Well, anyway you got to spend a whole morning with her. Other than the wacko spy, how was it?"

            "Fun."

            "Fun? That's all your going ta give me man? Come on we're best buds, give me something other than 'fun.' Whatever happened to your huge crush on her?"

            "What?" Joe asked, startled. "I never said that."

            "It was only obvious. Besides I've never seen your eyes light up like that for any girl except..." Biff almost hit himself, not for what he was about to say, but who he was about to bring up.

            The blonde on the other end felt a familiar tug on his heart. Immediately, he looked at the melted keys resting on a key hook next to his bed. 

            "Joe I think you should go out with Sweet for real," Biff rushed on, "You two never really gave each other a chance between bets and stunts."

            Joe smiled halfheartedly about to comment on how fun the bets and stunts had actually been when he heard yelling on Biff's end of the line. He could tell Biff had attempted to cover up the mouthpiece on his phone but Joe still made out what was being said; "Biff if you don't get out in the front yard and actually do your chores you are going to be grounded!"

            "Dude, Joe.."

            "I know, you gotta go."

            "Yeah, but I'll call you back later or tomorrow or something."

            "Cool."

            "Bye."

            "Bye."

            As soon as Joe hung up the phone his aung Gertrude came rushing in, closing the door behind her quickly.

            Alarmed, Joe sat up. "Aunty, what's wrong?"

            Gertrude turned fiercely frightened eyes onto her young nephew, "Your mother, your mother, she's.."

            Now frightened, Joe got off his bed and rushed to his aunt's side. "My mother's what?"

            "She's redecorating the living room."

            Joe's jaw dropped, "That's why you almost gave me a heart attack?"

            Gertrude grabbed Joe by the shoulders, "You don't understand you dense boy," Gertrude began to shake her nephew, "she wants me to help. I didn't move into this house to become a decorator."

            The teenage boy took a step back from his aunt once she let go of his shoulders, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. "So tell her you don't want to help. Since when have you had trouble vocalizing your opinions?"

            His aunt opened her mouth then shut it. After a few seconds she replied, "I'm not really sure."

            "Then go out there and tell my mother you don't want to help her at all."

            "Will do," she locked her eyes onto Joe's, "I knew we always understood each other on some level." she opened Joe's door and stepped out into the hall. "Oh by the way," she called back, "Frank called yesterday, looking for you."

            _Crap, I was supposed to be helping him find information on that new terrorist group, the OTTO._ "Thanks Aunty!"

*                                  *                                  *

            "Frank! It's Joe on the phone!" Callie yelled.

            Frank rushed out of his dorm bathroom dressed in nothing but boxers. He grabbed the phone from Callie in his rush to talk to his brother. "Man Joe you called right as I was about to take a shower."

            "Look Frank, I know you told me to look up the OTTO so I did, but to tell you the truth I found nothing of use."

            "Joe it's okay I just needed to talk to you about some interesting information I found," Frank ran his hands through his hair.

            Joe calls Frank from a payphone.

            "Cool, anything I can help with?"

            "Joe, you need to sit down for this."

            "Bro I am sitting."

            "Alright," Frank rushed into his story, telling Joe everything about the pictures. Frank felt Callie rubbing his back, trying to make things easier for him.

            "B-but, how? I mean..how?"

            "Joe," Frank sighed, "it means we've been followed our whole lives by some person or people we've never met."

            Joe's eyes widened, "Frank I think I met one of those people this morning!"

            "What!" Frank exclaimed, "How?"

            This time it was Joe's turn to explain, "Well there's this girl Sweet that moved to town and well..." Joe told him about the morning's events.

            "So she claims her dad was spying on her?"

            "Yeah, and I believed her but now I'm not so sure." _So much for going out on a real date with her._

            "Joe don't investigate."

            "What?"

            "Don't tip her off. Just let me, Chet, and Callie do more investigative work and we'll meet you down in Bayport."

            "Wait? Did you say Chet and Callie?"

            "Yeah."

            "Why are they...never mind. Alright I won't investigate."

            "It's important that you don't tell anyone in Bayport about any of this either. We can't take any chances."

            "Man is this going to kill Vanessa?"

            "Excuse me?"

            "She and Sweet have gotten to be close friends in the less than a week that she's been here."

*                                  *                                  *

            Nancy sat on one of the queen size beds in the hotel room she was sharing with Michael. "So this is all very strange." She spoke as her boyfriend, lying on his back on the other bed, flipped channels on the TV, "Maher definitely did not seem like a criminal."

            "I know what you mean, he was too open with his business plans and all that."

            "And he doesn't seem like the type of middle-aged man to be hanging out on top of frat houses although he fit the description given to us; tall, blonde, muscular."

            "Which really pisses me off." Michael stated.

            "Nancy looked at her boyfriend with surprise, "Why?"

            "He's twice my age and still looks young, I want to know what kind of exercises he does."

            Nancy rolled her eyes, "That's the vanity in you."

            Michael stood up, "Man are we going to have a lot of footage for Headlines when we put this episode together."

            "Do you think the camera got everything?"         

            "Of course, I am the best cameraman this side of the Atlantic." Michael took off his shirt to reveal a few wires connecting to a button on his shirt. Only the detectives knew that this button was in fact a hidden camera.

            Nancy's jaw almost hit the floor as she watched Michael remove his clothing. Her eyes drank in the sight of well toned muscle and nicely tanned flesh all wrapped around 6 feet and 5 inches of the most gorgeous man on earth.

            "Honey do you want a napkin? You're drooling," Michael grinned cockily.

            "I was not!" Nancy exclaimed, flustered.

            "Then what's that on your chin?"

            Nancy stood up and slowly removed the t-shirt she was wearing to reveal a dark blue bra. She grinned devilishly at Michael, who looked awestruck, before moving closer to him. She buried her fingers in his dark hair before pressing her lips to his. Michael responded, his lips moving effortlessly, hands finding their way further and further down Nancy's back. Nancy ended the kiss abruptly, leaving Michael confused.

            As she began to walk away Michael frowned, "Where are you going?"

            "I have to take a shower."

            "Would you like any help?"

            "Nice try."

            After hearing the click of the door shutting Michael decided to lie back down on the bed, finding That 70s Show playing on the screen. The episode was one Michael had seen before, Donna and her boyfriend were about to have sex, Donna changes her mind, yadda yadda.

            _At least they get that far and they're still in high school. Nancy and I have only talked about sex as a part of our relationship._ Michael knew that Nancy was a virgin _Probably the only one left over the age of 17._

            Ring!

            Michael let his thoughts go as the phone sitting next to him interrupted. "Hello?"

            "Hi, this is Frank Hardy, you must be Michael." 

            Confusion clouded Michael's mind for a few minutes then he remembered, "Oh yeah, Frank, Nancy told me you were going to call."

            "Um, is she there?"

            "Yeah, but she's taking a shower, can I take a message?"

            "Yeah, tell her I'll be over to exchange case information in about a half-hour."

*                                  *                                  *

            Fenton hardy entered FBI headquarters in Philadelphia.

Flashback

            "Fenton that's enough!" yelled FBI Agent Jaswall. "I am your superior on this case and you will not go against a direct order!"

            A young Fenton Hardy stared at the FBI Agent in horror. People were dying and Jaswall wouldn't let anyone help. Sometimes Fenton couldn't understand the FBI; the NYPD precinct he worked in would have allowed him to solve serial murders. Fenton rubbed his eyes....

Present

            And took a deep breath. 

            Looking around at his stale gray surroundings, Fenton wondered how anyone could possibly work there without going crazy.

            "Fenton, I think I should ask to speak to..."

            "Shut up Vlores."

            Vlores seemed taken aback, "But I work for the FBI, I'm pretty sure they will appreciate what I have to say."

            Fenton was about to object but thought better of it. "Fine Vlores, it's all yours."

            Vlores, leaving Fenton near the entrance, walked forward to a slate gray desk where a man in a gray uniform sat reading the New York Times. "Excuse me, my name is Special Agent Vlores. My partner and I were wondering if we could talk to Assistant Director Yaline."

            The man behind the desk didn't even look away from his newspaper, "No, the Assistant Director is busy."

            Fenton smiled in amusement, walking towards the desk he said, "Agent I'm Fenton Hardy, formerly of the NYPD, it is extremely important..."

            At the mention of Fenton's name the agent looked up. "You're Detective Hardy?"

            "Yes."

            The agent stood up and grabbed Fenton's right hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "You are the reason I became an FBI agent. You're cases were so amazing to read about and." The agent switched gears mid-sentence, "just go on and talk to the Assistant Director, I'll call him to let him know you're coming up."

            "Thank you." 

            The agent and the desk nodded before picking up the phone to call the Assistant Director.

Flashback

            "Detective Hardy is coming up to see you sir."

            "Good Lord," Special Agent Yaline muttered to herself, "that man never rests."

            "I guess that's why he's the NYPD's most celebrated Detective ma'am."

            "Melini why didn't you tell him I wasn't at my desk?"

            "I tried but he wouldn't listen, just rushed on by me and said it was important to some case he's working on."

            "Damn, I'll bet he's already in the...

Present

            elevator, which sparkled just as bright as Fenton remembered it.

            "Hardy will Yaline really help us? I mean I know she was one of the lead Agents on the BLACK WIDOW case but if she already went through all of it once what makes you think she'll help again?"

            "Vlores she's a fighter, always was, always will be. She never lets evil go, won't rest until the criminal is caught."

            "Alright, alright, you're starting to sound like the president of her fan club."

            "She deserves all of the positive comments Vlores, her hard work is what made her the youngest A.D. in FBI history. In fact she is always...

Flashback

            "..Willing to help."

            "Good to hear it, " Detective Hardy told her, "because it looks like the NYPD and the FBI have chosen to make you the lead Agent on this case."

            Yaline brushed back her shoulder length red hair with a grin, "I guess that means I'll see more of you Detective. We always work well on cases when we're together."

            Fenton shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Yaline I think you should know I'm married now, have been for two years. We're even going to have a son in about six months."

            "Fenton," Yaline held one hand up to stop him from speaking, "don't worry. I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize your marriage. Congratulations by the way, on both the marriage and the child. I'll have to come visit you in New York City to see your wife and child."

            "Good, that would be great. I know Laura would think it a...."

Present

            "...pleasure to meet you," Vlores was saying as he shook the Assistant Director's hand.

            "Same here Agent." Yaline took in the sight of Fenton Hardy standing in her office, "And you, Mr. Private Investigator, came here and give your old friend a hug."

            Fenton laughed as he hugged her, "Well I wouldn't say old."

            "Oh please," Yaline said as she stepped out of his embrace, "stop trying to get on my good side."

            "I wouldn't dream of it," Fenton shrugged, "Besides you don't have a good side."            "Funny Hardy, real funny. Now please, both of you sit and let me know what's on your minds." Fenton opened his mouth to speak but Yaline cut him off, "Actually I think I know what this is about."

            "Do you now?" Fenton asked.   

            Yaline sighed, "Yes, I heard they reopened the BLACK WIDOW case earlier this week. I didn't know or think they would bring you back into this."

            "So did your superiors tell you why they re-opened the case?" Vlores questioned.

            "No, they just mentioned a disturbance."

            "They have the girl," Fenton told her.

            Yaline paled, "Come again? How is that possible?"

            Fenton shrugged, "I got the call from Griswald a few days ago. At the moment we are investigating a bar called Grassroots, apparently there was some commotions there a few weeks back."

            "So?"

            "That's actually what I was thinking when Griswald told me to check it out but it turns out the bar is government owned and even though it's been closed for three years it's spotless."

            "Not only that," Vlores continued, "I found a shard of glass on the floor with some alcoholic residue on it. According to the scientists at the lab the residue can't be anymore than three weeks, coinciding with the disturbance reported at the club."

            Yaline frowned, "This doesn't sound like the original case."

            "No, that's what worries me," Fenton admitted, "it has it's similarities but I'm starting to think it's a copycat."

            "So why are you two here exactly?"

            Vlores and Fenton looked at each other before turning back to Yaline. Carefully Fenton spoke, "We think it might be the FBI this time."

            "The FBI?" Yaline asked incredulously.

            "Why not?" Vlores asked, "it was the FBI before too."

            "But those were double agents."

            Fenton rubbed his temples, "It's the only thing that makes sense, a government owned building is perfectly clean after three years of being shut down. I'm positive, I've got a gut feeling, that the FBI is using it to make superhumans."

            "Fenton," Yaline sighed, "if we were I would know."

            "Not necessarily, we both know that all agents are on a need-to-know basis. Maybe you and Griswald don't need to know."

            "So what do you want me to do?"

            "Explore Yaline. You have the means and motivation."

            Yaline smiled at her old friend, "I guess you're right. All right Hardy you win, I'll help. By the way how is your family? Especially your boys, they were so..."

*                                              *                                              *

            **Kind to Agent Yaline on a visit**

            Frank shuddered. 

            "Are you alright?" Callie asked on their way up to Nancy and Michael's hotel room.

            "Yeah, just remembered another caption."

            Chet patted him on the back, "Dude we will get to the bottom of this."

            "Thanks."

            The elevator doors opened, allowing the three college students to enter a long hallway. 

            "Let's see, room 112," Frank muttered, smiling when he finally found it. He knocked on the door quickly.

            "Who is it?" asked a feminine voice.

            "Us," replied Frank.

            Nancy threw open the door and hugged Frank, trying to ignore the little summersaults her stomach was doing. _He just keeps getting more and more attractive,_ she thought as she checked out his tall, lean frame. _Stop it, you have Michael_.

            _Oh man is she more gorgeous than ever,_ Frank thought as he watched her move on to Callie and Chet. _But now she has Michael and I have...well I'm not going back to Kim but what exactly is happening with Callie?_ He moved all thoughts to the back of his mind and smiled politely as he shook Michael's hand. "You must be Michael."

            "Yup, and you must be Frank. Nancy's told me a lot about you and your brother."

            "Nancy's told us a lot about you too." It was the honest truth; Nancy had been talking to Frank about Michael since before they had started dating, back when she thought he was an arrogant jerk.

            Michael winced, knowing full well what Nancy must have told Frank. He then went on to greet Callie and Chet. "So you're the big eater right?" he asked when he got to Chet.

            Chet laughed, "wow Nancy you really have filled him in on everything."

            Nancy grinned, "Every little detail." *Well except the attraction to Frank. Oh shut up conscience* She lead her visitors into the hotel room, "Take a seat."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Sweet are you going to buy anything or what?"

            "Relax Vanessa," Sweet said as she sorted through several t-shirts, "Pac-Sun doesn't really carry anything my style."

            Vanessa crossed her arms across her chest, "They have lots of dark clothing here I don't know why you can't find anything you like."

            Sweet shrugged, "I don't know either. I really shouldn't spend any more money though, Joe and I spent way too much at that flea market this morning."

            "Hey this is totally my gift to you, I never got you a house warming gift or anything."

            Sweet examined a black t-shirt, "Vanessa you really don't have to. Besides haven't you seen the prices on some of the stuff in here? Some of them are downright criminal." After getting no response from Vanessa, Sweet looked at her friend. Vanessa looked as though she had left her body. Sweet had never seen such a blank look. "Vanessa are you in there?"

            "Huh?" Vanessa snapped back to her usual self.

            "What had your attention?"

            "That guy over there," Vanessa told Sweet, pointing in the direction of the men's section.

            Sweet looked in the direction Vanessa had pointed. Standing in the middle of the men's section was a tall redheaded Adonis.

            "Isn't he gorgeous?" Vanessa asked.

            The other girl smiled, "Go talk to him."

            "Alright I will," after gathering up enough confidence, Vanessa strutted down to the man.

            From where Sweet was standing she could see everything. She saw Vanessa introduce herself, shake his hand, then begin a conversation. 

            _That girl has way more guts than I have_

*                                  *                                  *

            "So you think your teacher is trying to kill you?"

            Frank sighed, "Nancy I know it sounds crazy, especially because I have no proof whatsoever but I'm so confused."

            Frank sat in a chair next to the hotel room's window. Callie, who sat in the chair next to his spoke up, "But it doesn't make sense that he should ask for help from you. It would be like trying to get caught."

            Michael frowned from where he stood, leaning against the wall, "It sounds to me like he just wants to scare you. If he has pictures of you from the last 18 or so years then he could have easily killed you long ago."

            "And why does he have those pictures?" Nancy questioned. "Usually something like that would mean the criminal has known the family, in this case yours, for quite some time and is maybe even trying to get revenge on some one in that family."

            Frank eyes widened, "You know what I've been forgetting? Jaswall didn't ask me to help him."

            "What do you mean Frank?" Chet asked.

            "He asked me to ask my dad to help him," Frank's voice became more urgent, "So either he's trying to set me up or get me to hand deliver my father to him."

            "Have you called your father lately?" Michael asked.

            "I tried but he wasn't home. In fact he's on a case somewhere in Pennsylvania and he can't be bothered. Instead I got Joe and he hasn't been able to find anything about the OTTO."

            "The who?" Callie asked.

            "Oh right I forgot to tell you. I did research on my teacher and this new terrorist group, the OTTO, seems to be his project."

            "And this guy's a philosophy teacher?" Michael asked.

            "Yeah, odd, but yeah."

            "Sounds like the first thing you have to do is track down your dad and ask him if he knows anyone named Jaswall," Nancy said, "then find out why he's been taking pictures of you and Joe, if it's him taking the pictures."

            "What do you mean if?" Chet asked, "we saw him go into the building, he has to be behind it."

            "Not necessarily," Michael told him, "he could have some on else take the pictures for him or maybe the whole pictures thing isn't a part of his plan but some person in his terrorist group."

            Frank rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine coming on. "Actually I think the key to all of this is in Bayport."

            "Bayport? Why?" Nancy asked.

            "Well my brother called earlier to fill me in on what's happening in Bayport." Frank quickly summarized what had happened, "And know he doesn't know if he should trust this new girl although he promised not to investigate."

            Nancy spoke, "Poor Joe. What's this girl's name?"

            Frank thought for a minute, "Sweet Rodriguez." Noticing the surprised look in both Nancy and Michael's eyes he said, "What?"

            Michael spoke first, "Well, let us tell you about _our_ case."

Alright, well that's all for this chapter. I need you all to vote on different couples in this story. I just need an idea of where the fans want this to end. Here are some of the choices:

Frank/Nancy (for the f/n shippers)

Nancy/Michael (want to give the new guy a break?)

Frank/Callie (anyone for the classic couple?)

Frank/Kimberly (for anyone who actually liked her)

Nancy/Ned (yeah he's not in the story but I can always bring him in)

Vanessa/ ? (she doesn't really have anyone right now)

Well you can vote on anyone you want, even those who aren't listed. But if not enough people vote then I really can't take it seriously. Thank you very much. 

Pitaqueen: There were super mysteries that came out after the college series? Do you happen to know the names of any of the books?

Gena: Don't worry, I'll keep updating to keep you happy. 

Wingweaver: ::Blushes:: I feel special.

Fandnshipper: I'm glad you are so enthusiastic about the story.

Katie janeway: It's good to be back.

Ananke: LOL, definitely.

Those were just the people who reviewed last chapter, thank you to everyone else who reviewed; I really have enjoyed reading the reviews. They give me the encouragement I need to write this story.

See you all next chapter.


	14. Sweet Rodriguez, who are you?

Author's Note: Man I looked at the date that I last updated, sorry to leave you hanging for so long. I'm completely surprised my story lasted this long. It was supposed to be a ten-chapter story but along the way my muse decided to force new ideas on me. So if any of you are getting tired of my story blame my muse.

Disclaimer: Okay I realize now that sending Joe to tell you that I own nothing was a big mistake as a sandwich and models sidetracked him. I should have just sent Frank. Hey we all learn from our mistakes. Alright it's time to break it to you gently….I don't own any of these characters. I know, I know, it's an incredible shock that the person who actually owns them isn't posting stories online for free but alas, that's the strange new world we live in.

Chapter 14-Sweet Rodriguez, who are you? (Saturday/Sunday)

            "Dirty dancing is the most awesome 80s movie I have ever seen!" squealed Vanessa.

            Sweet grinned, "And what was your favorite part, Tom Cruise in his underwear?"

            "Hey!" Vanessa exclaimed defensively, "I happened to like the movie for it's incredibly cinematography."

            The two girls sat on a couch in Vanessa's home living room, giggling like schoolgirls.

            "So what 80s movie do you want to watch next?" Vanessa asked.

            "Hmmm. How about…..The Heathers?"

            "Good choice."

            Approximately two hours the girls were laughing at the 120 minutes of ridiculous film they had just chosen to watch.

            "I love my dead gay son!" Sweet exclaimed, doing a poor impression of one of her favorite characters.

            Vanessa fell off the couch feeling tears form rivers on her cheeks.

*                                  *                                  *

            "Great, more planes," muttered Callie. She shuddered, imagining the motion sickness she was prone to experience. 

"Look Callie I know you dislike airplanes with a passion but just take these motion sickness pills and you will be out like that," Frank snapped his fingers.

            "Are you absolutely sure?" Callie asked, turning her eyes up to meet his.

            "Positive." Frank held out a bottle of white pills.

            Callie reached out and took the bottle from him, with trust.

            Both were sitting near their boarding gate, waiting for not only the plane to arrive but for Michael, Nancy, and Chet to come back with their dinner.

            Frank closed his eyes in an attempt to drift off into a dream. Unfortunately his friends chose this moment to arrive with warm food.

            "Frank," Callie said, "get up."

            Frank's eyes shot open, taking in the sight of Chet's grinning face. 

            "Dude, now we eat."

            "I'm so glad for you Chet," Frank said, more than a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice.

            "Aw, look who's Mr. Cranky Pants," Nancy crooned.

            Frank felt himself blush in a way that could only be caused by the beautiful strawberry blonde. _Who's just a friend. "_Yeah well it's been a long day. Anyway, where's the grub?"

            Chet handed Frank a bag with a Taco Bell Logo imprinted on it.

            "Again?" Frank asked.

            "Hey Taco Bell is great." Insisted Chet.

            "Whatever."

            Within minutes they had all finished their food and sat impatiently for their plane.

            "Man, how long does it take to fly here from Maine?" Michael muttered.

            "Maybe they ran into weather issues," suggested Chet.

            "Or the pilot got drunk," Nancy said jokingly.

            "What?" Callie asked alarmed.

            "Callie she was kidding," Frank told her.

            "Right," Chet agreed, "flying is totally great."

            "Then name one damn thing great about it."

            "Well," Nancy began, "You can see rivers, lakes, fields. The view is incredible."

            "Except of course when random birds hit the windows," Chet told her.

            Callie's eyes widened.

            "You guys," Frank said in a low warning tone.

            "Wait!" Michael exclaimed, "there is also the food they give you on the plane."

            "W-what kind of food?" Callie asked.

            "Well for a short trip like this it's probably peanuts and pretzels."

            "I like peanuts and, and pretzels."

            "Yup," Chet agreed, "In fact the food only gets to be a problem when it's managed to pick up some foreign disease."

            "D-disease?" Callie's face paled.

            Frank glared at Chet then turned back to Callie, "Callie the flight can feel very soothing and very smooth."

            "Except when you're hitting mountain sides," Chet quipped.

            "That's it!" Callie exclaimed, "No plane ride for me!"

            "Gate 3A, Bayport International, begin boarding process," came the voice over the intercom.

            "Come on Callie," Frank said, firm grip on her arm, "we're going home."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Yeah Rita, yeah, all right, yes, okay," Nancy sighed. _This Lady is too persistent._ "Alright, bye."   

            "Your psychologist?" Frank asked as he looked for Callie's luggage at the baggage claim, she had said she was too tired to get it herself.

            "Yeah, the court appointed one. She wants me to have sessions with her over the phone when I'm not in Illinois." Nancy let frustration mar her usually calm face.

            "That must be killer on your cell phone bills." Spying Callie's bag he excused himself, reaching out to pull the brown suitcase towards himself.

            In ten minutes, all baggage found, the five teenagers were tucked away in a rather small cab. Nancy, having Frank on one side and Michael on the other, found herself being squashed every time the cab driver made a sharp turn. _We had better get out of here soon._ Nancy took in Callie's half-asleep form on the other side of Frank. _At least some one is enjoying the ride._

*                                  *                                              *

            Joe sat on the steps of his front porch, glass of lemonade in one hand, snicker's bar in the other. Looking up he was surprised to see bright stars_. Incredible how bright they shine, even through the smog. They're beautiful; I wonder what constellations are visible tonight. _After a few minutes of searching, the blonde gave up; _Frank was always the smarter one._

A smile graced Joe's lips. _Frank, he's coming home tonight. _Joe took a sip of his lemonade before biting into his candy bar. The combination of the pleasantly sour beverage and deliciously sweet candy caused Joe to wince. _Never trying that again sour and sweet just don't mix. Sweet. _Joe's thoughts became stuck on that one syllable word, or in Joe's case, one syllable name. Sweet, the girl Joe had been positive would be perfect for him, the girl he was now convinced was in some way connected to a group of terrorists. _Sweet, what an ironic name, one fit for an angel, yet labels a girl who is anything but. _Joe thought about Sweet's favorite punk/Goth style clothing; the chains, spikes; _definitely not an angel_. _But still, never would have pegged her for a lunatic_.

            He took in a lung full of Bayport's spring air; slightly humid, cool, calm. _Calm, I wish. I mean you'd think a small city would be calm and safe but no we have crazed bank robbers, hacker; you name it they're here. _Joe relaxed against the steps enjoying the air, slightly accented by the scent of freshly grown spring flowers. _I just hope Frank gets here soon._

*                                  *                                  *

            Michael watched the scenery as the taxi rushed by at 50 miles an hour. _So this is Bayport?_ The city born reporter felt an odd sense of awe as he observed the drastically domesticated businesses, houses, even liquor stores. It didn't make any sense to Michael that people should actually choose to live in such, cleanliness.

            He felt a slight pressure on his hand. Looking away from the window he locked eyes with Nancy.

            "Different isn't it?" She asked with a knowing smile.

            "Not Chicago, that's for sure."

            "Don't worry, it isn't as quiet as it looks."

            "You can say that again," Frank said from the front seat. 

            "So," Michael said, "How much longer until we get to your house?"

            "What's the matter?" Chet asked, "Getting too crowded back here?"

            Frank chuckled, he had purposely chosen the front, passenger seat. Looking back at the others, Michael pressed against a window, Nancy next to him being smothered by a few hundred pounds of Chet, and Callie fast asleep in what Frank assumed had to be the most uncomfortable position in the world.

            "Don't worry folks," the taxi driver spoke up, "only a few minutes 'till we get to your destination."

            "Thank God," a voice mumbled, "the monkeys were getting angry."

            "What?" Chet frowned and looked at Callie, "What monkeys?

            Callie looked dazed, "Why, the ones chasing us silly."

            "Um, Callie," Frank asked, "How many of those pills did you take?"

            Callie giggled, "Only five little ones, you know, for the pancakes."

            Chet looked at Frank, "Crap Frank, I think she took too many."

            "No crap," Frank said, partially turned around in his seat to look at Callie, "Luckily the bottle has six pills as the daily max. Five will keep her dazed for awhile."

            Nancy giggled. "I never thought I'd see the day Callie would overdose on drugs."

            "Be nice," Frank warned, but fought a smile that threatened to take over.

            Frank felt the car stop.

            "Alright kids we're here," the driver announced. He stopped to look at his watch, "and it's only 10pm."

*                                  *                                              *

            Joe ran up to the taxicab with a child's eagerness. "Frank!" He almost smothered his brother in a hug. Letting his brother breath he let go, "Nancy! Chet!" He came near killing them with his excitement as well. "And even Callie!" he tried to hug her but was surprised by a slap in the face.

            "Never touch the Queen of the English!"

            Joe looked at Frank. Frank shrugged, "Overdosed on pills."

            "Pills?"

            "Yeah, to fight nausea." 

            Joe looked past his brother to see someone he didn't know, "And you must be Michael," he said, giving the man a firm handshake. "Nice to meet the guy Nancy won't stop talking about."

            "Joe," Nancy said in a warning voice.

            "Aww," Michael said, batting his eyelashes, "you do love me."

            Nancy blushed, "Oh shut up."           

            Michael answered with a cocky smile.

            "Let me get your bags," Joe offered, quickly unloading the bags from the taxi.

            "You really must have missed us to be offering to do work," Chet said with an amused look.

            "Yeah, yeah," Joe said dismissively, "So when do we get to work on the case?"

*                                  *                                  *

            "Sir, they are getting closer. What do you want me to do?"

            The man smiled, "Let them get closer."

            "W-What? I thought the point of this was to get away with it."

            "Just do as I say and keep an eye on Ms. Rodriguez. We can't risk her telling them anything."

            "Aye Sir."

*                                  *                                  *

            As Frank awoke in his comfortable bed, which surprisingly hadn't been moved out of the room by his brother, he couldn't help but feel relief. Home was more than just a house, it was a place where he could feel safe, and the dangers of the outside world could not get him. _Except for the psycho snapping pictures of you._

"Frank!" he heard Nancy call through his door.

            "Come in."

            She entered, looking around the room, "Joe didn't get rid of any of your stuff."

            "Yeah," Frank said getting up, "I'm just as surprised."

            "Anyway, your Aunt wanted to know how you wanted your eggs."

            "Scrambled."

            "Cool. Hurry up and get dressed, we're going out right after breakfast."

*                                  *                                  *

            Chet found himself sitting at the Hardy's table across from Callie, who looked like she had been run over by a truck. Her characteristically bright eyes seemed dulled out, the whites of her eyes were slightly accented by red, and the bags under her eyes looked as though they could have held the groceries Gertrude had bought that very morning.

            "Callie, how are you feeling?"

            Callie looked up through a jungle of brown hair to glare at Chet, "Like I ran myself into a brick wall, backed up and did it again."

            "Well I hope you feel better soon."

            "Yeah I bet you do."

            "What's that supposed to mean?"

            " 'Hey Callie flying is safe, except when you hit the mountains.'" 

            "Come on Callie, you know I was just messing with you. You know I love ya."

            "Whatever." Callie looked over to her left where Nancy and Frank were engrossed in a conversation. Nancy's boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. "Nancy where is Michael?"

            "He hates getting up in the morning, he's sleeping in. I promised to wake him up before we left so he could come."

            "Man, he passed up food!" Joe exclaimed.

            "Yeah, hard to believe some people eat reasonable amounts of food, isn't it Joe?" Frank asked.

            "Ha, ha."

            Gertrude, sitting at the head of the table asked, "So where are you kids off to today?" When no one said anything she raised an eyebrow, "Oh so you're working on a new dangerous mystery are you?"

            "How…"

            "Frank I did not live with you people for this long to not realize when you're up to something. Just be careful."

*                                  *                                  *

            "So," Michael said yawning, "They go in and act all cozy with the girl, get her talking. Meanwhile you and I sit out in this van and monitor their conversation on this equipment." Michael motioned towards the surprisingly high tech equipment in Joe's van.

            "Yup, the beauty of being able to wire detectives," Nancy replied as she stared at a monitor and turned up the volume on a wireless radio.

            "Alright, I understand why the four of them got to go in but what about her," Michael indicated toward the sleeping form of Callie on the backseat.

            Nancy continued looking at the monitor, which at the moment was only displaying images of a few items in Sweet's house. "She said she was feeling fine but I guess those pills were stronger than we thought." Nancy sighed, "Poor Vanessa, I wish we could tell her that we were spying on her and her new best friend. When she finds out Joe was wired the whole time she is going to kill him."

            Michael stared at the monitor as well, "I hate to sound like Mr. Insensitivity but the world isn't perfect, life plays funny games with your heart, she'll have to learn that." Michael tapped the monitor, "I just hope he can keep his mouth shut about all of this."

            "Don't worry," Nancy said distracted, "Biff has had practice in keeping his trap shut."

*                                  *                                  *

            Joe sat comfortably on the Rodriguez's living room couch. His brother sat to the right of him, looking as though he was getting ready to take a stroll in the park, Chet sat on a tan, leather loveseat with Vanessa, and Sweet sat to left of Joe.

            "So you are Joe's brother," Sweet said, "Vanessa told me you two were complete opposites."

            "Better believe it," Chet said,  "Frank here is nothing like Joe. See Joe is impulsive, brash, unorganized…"

            "Hey!" Joe exclaimed, "There's helping and then there's hurting, can you guess which you're doing?"

            Vanessa laughed, "Ah, but the truth hurts."

            After a few hours of playful banter and snacks, Joe excused himself to use the restroom. Joe carefully made his way down the hall, where the nearest bathroom was located. _Alright Hardy, their backdoor is here somewhere. BINGO._

Joe carefully slipped outside into the backyard. Looking around for someway to climb onto the second floor of the Rodriguez's house he spotted a hose. 

*                                  *                                  *

            "What is that boy doing?" Nancy asked.

            "No idea," Michael responded as he watched Joe pick up a hose and make a loop on one end.

            "It looks like he's getting ready to play cowboy," Nancy commented as she watched him swing it around his head.

            "I get it," Michael said as Joe threw the looped end of the hose.

            "Ah." Nancy said as the looped end caught on a loose nail on a second floor windowsill. Joe had successfully created a make-shift rope. "So he's going to actually attempt to climb that?"

*                                  *                                              *

            Joe began to climb the hose, knowing full well that Michael and Nancy were wondering at his insanity through the cameras hidden on the corners of his eyes. _Man I love high technology equipment._

            He grabbed hold of the windowsill, pulling himself onto the ledge and opening the window_. Luckily it's open, wouldn't want to have to add breaking and entering onto my list of felonies._ The detective stepped into the bedroom and immediately recognized it as Sweet's. Vanessa's description of the artist's dream was incredibly accurate. _But this isn't what I'm looking for._      

            Joe quickly walked into the hall, trying to find the master bedroom. In front of him were two doors. Opening one he found a small bedroom lacking any real personality. Deciding this must be the guest room, Joe walked to the other door, opening it he found a king sized bed accompanied by several other pieces of furniture. _Nice room._

*                                  *                                  *

            "Joe this is no time to admire the room, find clues," Nancy whispered.

            "But the room is amazing. How could a Colonel in the Air Force afford some of those things?" Michael rubbed his chin, "The Ming Dynasty vase, flat screen TV with DVD player, marble floor…. I mean what army man can afford that kind of taste?"

            "I don't know but I know some one who can afford it. In fact he does buy that kind of stuff."

            "Maher," Michael murmured as realization dawned on him.

            Nancy nodded.

            "But why would he have an Air Force Colonel on his payroll? Or buy him some of that stuff?"

            "Maybe," Nancy said as Joe looked through a few drawers, "Maybe Maher bought some of those things as gifts, or all rich guys have the same taste."

            Michael shrugged, "Next we'll have to find the Bayport company Maher and Valleys work with."

            Nancy nodded her agreement, "It could only make some of this make more sense." She attempted to sort out the facts in her head but it only succeeded in giving her a slight headache. "Michael I feel so bad for Joe. I was hoping Sweet would not fit the description we had been given but she fits it to a T."     

            Michael covered one of Nancy's hands with his own. "From what you've told me he is an honestly great guy, I'm sure he'll find someone."

            Nancy laid her head on Michael's shoulder, "I hope so." She rose her head violently as Joe pulled something out of a drawer. "Oh my…"

*                                  *                                  *

            "I wonder where Joe is," Sweet wondered out loud.

            "Probably still in the bathroom," Biff commented, "Did you see how much he ate?"

            "Hmm, maybe we were out of toilet paper on the first floor." Sweet stood up.

            "Sweet," Frank said quickly, "if Joe needs anything I'm sure he'll yell."

            "I guess you're ri…," She was interrupted by a slamming door. "What the hell was that?"

            Chet winced. Now was not the time for Joe to get sloppy. 

            Immediately following Chet's thought, Joe came barreling down the stairs.

            "Joe," Sweet started, "are you okay?"

            "Don't even start with that act!" Joe yelled.

*                                  *                                  *

            "No, don't lose your temper," Michael said to Joe, knowing that Joe couldn't hear him.

            Nancy winced as she watched the scene in front of her.

*                                  *                                  *

            Joe grabbed Sweet by the arm.

            "Joe that hurts!"

            "Where did you get these!" he yelled in her face.

            Vanessa immediately jumped up to defend her friend. "Joe what are you doing!?"

            Chet, Biff, and Frank were glued to their seats, not knowing what to do.

            Without turning his murderous eyes to Vanessa he replied, "Why don't you ask this liar?"

            "Joe, explain," Frank demanded.

            Joe released Sweet from his death grip. In his other hand were a few things Frank had not noticed, pictures. "Sweet where did you get this picture?" He held a picture of Frank and himself on a case in Japan. "Or this one?" Showing her a picture of Frank on his first day of college he took a step forward, forcing the girl to take a step back, "Or this one damn it!" It was one of Frank kissing Nancy on a case in Egypt.

            Frank looked at the photos, his eyes widening in anger. Turning to the speechless girl he calmly asked, "Who are you?"

            Vanessa stood, watching in horror. "Sweet? What's going on?"

*                                  *                                  *

            "What the hell?" Michael watched in surprise as Sweet buried her face in her hands. He heard her crying.

*                                  *                                  *

            "I hoped you wouldn't find out," Sweet said through tears.

            Chet, Biff, and Frank continued to look on in confusion.

            "Find out what? That you've been lying, spying?" Joe asked, far from sensitive.

            Sweet looked at the floor, "I guess I owe you an explanation."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Alright! I think we're getting somewhere!" Michael exclaimed happily.

            Nancy nodded though Michael didn't see, his eyes were fixed on the monitor.

            Joe was talking, "How much of what you told me was a lie?"

*                                  *                                  *

            Sweet sighed, "Not much." Looking Joe in the eyes she said, "My father really was stationed here in New York but not by the Air Force."

            "Then by who?" Vanessa asked.

            "The FBI. My dad received a request by the FBI to relocate to Bayport, he got permission from the Air Force and now we're here."     

            "But what does that have to do with the pictures?" Frank questioned.

            "Well he was sent here on an assignment. You see there was a project that started about twenty years ago, the Powerhouse, that my dad was involved in. The project was to create what the government called superhumans."

            "Superhumans?" Biff said incredulously.

            Sweet shrugged, "Their term not mine. Anyway they created these beings by.."

*                                  *                                  *

            "…cloning already existing humans and perfecting their DNA."

            "That's impossible," Michael's words echoed Joe's.

            "No it's not," Sweet's voice insisted on the speaker. "The government, actually the FBI, found a way to replicate humans and improve them. There was just one problem."

            Nancy frowned at the speaker, "Did you hear that sound?"

*                                  *                                  *

            "What problem?" Joe asked.

            "Even though they could improve these humans, they couldn't get rid of any serious flaws already existing in the DNA." Sweet sighed, "And the morality of the project was questionable. How do you explain to the clones that they don't have any real family, that they're just copies in some kind of experiment?"

            "Playing God," Frank whispered.

            Sweet nodded. "One clone went crazy, she couldn't take any of it any more and started killing. Because of this woman the FBI suspended their project. They became so worried about any of their 'superhumans' doing anything drastic that they began to follow them, document their every move."

            "How do you know this?" Vanessa asked.

            Sweet looked into Vanessa's eyes sadly, "Because I'm a clone."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I've tallied up the votes I've gotten through email and postings and it looks like most of the pairings could go either way. I got about as many votes for Nancy/Frank as I did for Nancy/Michael. I even got a few for Nancy/Joe (didn't know there were N/J shippers out there). Most of you were confused about any possible Joe pairings, can't say I blame you. 

I don't really have time to respond to most of the postings right now but let me just say a few things, yes some of the pictures were taken outside of Bayport and if any of you change your mind about any of the possible relationships just let me know.


	15. Sweet Confessions

Author's Note: ::Doing little dance:: I'm happy about all the reviews I've been getting, I'm loving them all. 

Disclaimer: Alright so the superhuman angle is mine, but I swear I'm not the author of the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew books. 

Question: Does anyone know about who really authored the Nancy Drew On Campus Series? I heard that Keene didn't actually write them, that it was a staff of highly respected authors but I don't know if any of it is true. Anyone out there know the truth?

Chapter 15- Sweet Confessions (Sunday)

            "There it is again," Nancy announced. "The sound."

            Michael frowned, "You're sure it's not just extra feedback."

            "Positive."

*                                  *                                  *

            "You're a clone," Vanessa said slowly.

            Sweet nodded.

            "So that guy Victor," Joe said, "he was just doing his job. He was just keeping track of your activities?"

            "Yeah but of course I would get the idiot," Sweet said with a humorless laugh.

            "So what the hell does that have to do with your father having photos of my family?" Joe asked, once again angry.

            Frank stood up, "Yeah, it's not like we're clones."

            "Guys get out of there now!"

            "What was that?" Vanessa asked.

            "I'm wired," Joe answered, "But I didn't know they could talk to me."

            "Joe!" Frank recognized Nancy's voice, "Someone out there is tapping the house, they're nearby and getting closer. LEAVE NOW!"

            "Where are we supposed to go?" Vanessa asked, alarmed.

            "Follow," Joe ordered.

*                                  *                                  *

            "They're coming," Michael said, looking at the monitor.

            "Good," Nancy said starting the van's engine. 

            "Damn, whoever it was that was tapping the house is incredibly close."

            Nancy picked up a small walkie-talkie, "Hurry up."

            "We're here."

            Nancy turned to see the five teenagers crawling into the back of the van.

            Vanessa looked at the backseat, "Hey Callie's here too."

            "Hold on!" Nancy commanded as she hit the accelerator. 

*                                  *                                  *

            "Mr. Hardy, the residue on the piece of glass Vlores found seems to be a chemical of some sort."

            Fenton tightened his grip on his cell phone, "What kind of chemical?"

            "What's the lady saying?" Vlores asked.

            Fenton silently shooed his younger partner.

            "The chemical is not one I've ever come across. So far I've found several different hormones and steroids disguised as memory enhancers."

            "Hormones? What kinds?"

            "Hormones that to control several different aspects of human behavior and physical traits. Some of them are growth hormones, some of them seem to be designed to make whoever was taking the chemical to become more sensitive. Some could even increase a person's desire for sex."

            "You said 'designed.' What makes you think they were designed and not natural?"

            "They are too perfect to have occurred in nature, as a doctor that bothers me."

            Fenton said nothing.

            "Mr. Hardy one more thing."

            "What?"

            "The residue, it looks like it was a drink."

            "I picked up on that Doctor."    

            "I need more time to analyze this Hardy."

            "I understand, call me when you think you've found anything more."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Nancy I think we're being followed."

            "Yeah Frank I figured that, the same truck has been on us since we left Sweet's house. Just don't let on that you know they're following."

            Frank studied Sweet's face, the girl was staring mutely into space. What else had the girl not told them?   

            "Hey what's going on?" a sleep voice asked.

            "Good morning Callie." Vanessa said.

            "What's going on?"

            "Well," Biff's voice sounded soothing to Vanessa, "We went to Sweet's, she revealed that she's a clone, we had to get out of her house because it was being tapped and now we're being followed by whoever was tapping the house."

            "Oh, is that all?" Callie asked in a humorous attempt to break the tense atmosphere.

            Joe sat quietly, eyes not straying from the seat in front of him. "Are we clones?" 

            "What?" Sweet asked.

            "You said they kept track of clones, there's a whole timeline for my brother and myself and come to think of it you never did get to explaining why your father had a pictures of us."

            "I would have but we had to leave the house in a hurry." Sweet said defensively.

            "Well you have the time now so answer!"

            "Joe," Vanessa said in a low voice, "back off."

            "What?" he shouted at Vanessa, "now you're defending her. She's been lying to me, to you, since she got here and you're defending her!"

            "Shut up Joe!"

            "Hey, both of you shut up!" 

            Joe and Vanessa glared angrily at each other.

            "It's hard enough to drive under the pressure without the two of you shouting at each other. Now, Sweet will you please answer some of our questions?"

            "Fine. Like I was telling you in there, the FBI hired my father to come to Bayport. I know it was to spy on you two but I don't know the details."

            "Is that why you became," Joe fought to control his voice, "friends with me?"

            "No," Sweet replied quickly, "I was planning on avoiding you completely."

            "So you don't know why the FBI is keeping tabs on us?" Frank asked.

            "No."

            Michael frowned, "Why do you keep calling this man, Colonel Rodriguez your father?"

            Sweet looked into his chocolate brown eyes, "That's the role he's played in my life for the last 17 years."

            "Who is he to you, really?" Nancy asked.

            "He, well you could call him my creator." To relieve herself of the blank stares she continued, "His daughter, I'm his daughter's clone."

            "I'm assuming his daughter had diabetes," Vanessa said, "otherwise you wouldn't have the disease, not with being a 'superhuman.'"

            Sweet nodded, "But I'm not really a 'superhuman' I'm more like a…defect."

            "Explain," Joe demanded.

            "The Colonel's daughter was cloned with the intention of becoming one of the strongest of clones but along the way something went wrong with the genetics, I really don't know any of the technical terms, all I know is that they boosted my intelligence but nothing else worked. I didn't get any of the superhuman strength or DNA."

            "Superhuman DNA?" Michael asked.

            "I don't know what was meant by that but in my files one of their 'Reason's for termination' was that I lacked the DNA. And before you ask, if one is stamped with the reason's for termination label it is because the government has no intention of letting you live. If it wasn't for the Colonel's insistence that I live a normal life with him I might be another discarded government project."

            "So, they were going to kill you?" Vanessa asked, horrified.

            "Wait, why did they clone the Colonel's daughter to begin with?" Chet asked.

            "I honestly don't know, I tried to ask the Colonel about it once but he got angry."

"What do you know about a Jack Maher or Berney Valleys?" Michael asked out of the blue.

            Sweet's eyes widened, "I haven't heard those names in years."

            "Are you sure?" Nancy asked, "We have witnesses that have linked you to him in the last few months."

            "I'm positive."

            "Who are they?"

            "They're middlemen of sorts, always looking to fix everyone's problems."

            "Yeah, yeah," Michael said frustrated, "we figured that much out."        

            "Why do you ask?"

            "I don't think you're in any position to," Joe started to say.

            "Joe shut it!"

            "Vanessa it's okay," Sweet said calmly.

            Nancy sighed and told her the whole story of how she and Michael had ended up in Bayport.

            "And they were just standing on the top of the frat house?" Sweet asked, "That sounds a little odd to me."

            "Well that's the way it happened," Joe snapped.

            Sweet turned angrily to Joe, "Look Joe I haven't actually done anything wrong so will you please just get off my case!"

            "Hey it's your father that's involved in this so in a way so are you! Hell you could have told us your father was spying on us!"

            "Hey your dad is a part of all of this too!" She screamed back.

            Joe was stunned into silence.

"What?" Frank asked.

"I said," Sweet stated with a little more self control, "your father had a hand in all of this too."

"That's impossible," Joe told her, "Our dad would never do anything to put our lives in danger."

"Look, after the Powerhouse experiment the FBI opened up a new case, the BLACK WIDOW."

"What did this one entail?" Frank asked.

"As far as I know it was to catch certain double agents that were involved with the Powerhouse experiments. The leader of these double agents went by the name of Harry Jaswall."

Joe looked at his brother, "Your teacher's last name right?"

Frank nodded.

"I don't know much else except that a Fenton Hardy of the NYPD was called in to investigate."

            "Why with the FBI?" Frank asked. "And why wouldn't he have told us?"

            Sweet was silent.

            Nancy who had been carefully driving the car looked in the rear view mirror, "Um guys I think you should duck."

            "Why?" Biff asked.

            "Because from the looks of things those guys in the truck behind us have AK 47s and they're about to use them." As Nancy finished her sentence she heard shots ring out.

            "Hit the floor!" she heard Joe yell.

            "Nancy get down!" Michael screamed.

            Nancy got down as low as she possibly could, making sure she could still see above the dashboard, "It's no use," she cried out as she heard a wheel burst from sudden contact with a bullet, "we can't get away!"

            "Quick drive into a crowded area!" Joe yelled, "They won't try to kill us in broad daylight!"

            Nancy steered the car at high speed into the nearest shopping center parking lot. Surely enough the truck drove past not bothering to finish them off. Turning around in her seat she asked, "Is everyone alright!"

            Her response was a shaky  "yes," from Callie.

            "Good because it looks like we're stuck here."

            "What?" Vanessa asked.

            "Well the van only has three tires left, it was risky enough driving to the parking lot with three wheels, I'm not willing to risk driving anywhere else."

            "Joe, please tell me you keep spare tires in this thing," Frank pleaded.

            "Um, the wheel that popped, that was my spare," Joe replied sheepishly.

            "Great so we're stuck here," Chet complained.

            "Hey feel lucky we're alive at all," Frank told him, "Those guys were definitely out for blood."

            Joe opened the door and hopped out of the van. He circled his van to survey the damage. "OH MY GOD!"

            "What's wrong Joe?" Nancy asked, hopping out of the driver's seat.

            "Look what they did to my baby!"

            Nancy walked around to the back of the van and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Joe it's okay."

            "No it's not."

            "Joe," he heard Chet say as he walked over to them, "I'm sure it's not that bad, oh holy shit!" Chet took in the sight of the bullet-riddled van. "Joe I'm sure this is fixable," he lied.

            Nancy looked around, "Joe do you have any money?"

            "No. Why?"

            "There's a Sears right there," she said, pointing. "I was thinking we could buy a new tire."

            "Ask Frank if he has any money," he muttered before laying his forehead against the cool, now uneven, metal of his dearly beloved vehicle.

*                                  *                                  *

            "Alright boss, we managed to scare them, now what?"

            "Patience. They are taken care of, for now. Now bring me the girl."

            "Yes sir."

*                                  *                                  *

            "Frank dad's not answering his cell, what do you want me to do now?"

            "Keep calling." Frank replied as he searched row after row of tires.

            Joe hit redial and muttered angrily when he was once again given the option of leaving a voicemail.

            "Hey Joe what kind of tires do you use?"

            "Goodyear." Joe hit redial again.

            The Hardy brothers had been given the chore of buying the tires while the rest had opted to walk around Sears rather than sit in the lopsided van.

            "If you would like to leave a voicemail press one now, if you would like Sprint to attempt to deliver a message for you…"

            Joe pressed one. "Um hey dad it's me, Joe. Frank and I had some questions for you concerning a case you once worked one, BLACKWIDOW. If you would call us back we would be deeply-"

"Joe?"

            "Dad?"

            "Yeah."

            "Dad we need to talk."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Wow, didn't think I would ever get this chapter finished, even if it is my shortest one. Hmmm, what will Fenton tell his kids about his past case? Guess you'll find out in the next chapter as this story comes close to it's end (hopefully). 

FYI, the day of the week that I keep in the parenthesis next to the title is for my own benefit, it drives me crazy not knowing what day it is in my own stories. It's really not vital to the story.


	16. Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Off to Philly We Go!

Author's Note: Well it looks like our favorite teen detectives are actually making progress on their case. I hope, for their sake, that they discover the truth about the Powerhouse experiments and BLACK WIDOW soon.

Disclaimer: NOT MINE! NOT MINE! NOT MINE!

Chapter 16- Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to Philly we go! (Monday)

"Bess have you heard from Nancy?"

Bess looked up from her Calculus assignment in annoyance, "For the last time George, no. The last time I talked to her she was angry at me for trying to break her and Michael up."

George sat back in her chair, "My dear cousin, I think she was more angry because she ended up in jail."

"Oh shut up," Bess hissed. Looking around she asked, "Why are we studying in the library? Wouldn't it have been much more comfortable in one of our dorm rooms?"

"Bess," George said, trying to keep her voice from becoming too condescending, "Will, you know, my boyfriend, is using my room to prepare some kind of art final. And your room is a complete mess."

"I guess," Bess muttered.

"I'm always right."

"But couldn't we have studied outside?"

"Too windy."

"The sorority house?"

"Too many girls giggling about nothing."

"The Pizza Dome?"

*                      *                      *

It was dark before the teen detectives started on their trip to Philadelphia. Most of them slept soundly, tired from the day's events. The only two not sleeping were Frank and Callie.

"So," Callie said, "I guess your dad has all the answers."

Frank, both hands on the wheel, replied, "Maybe, possibly."

Callie sighed and looked back out the windshield. Endless trees and bushes seemed to pass them by in a rush. The view began to make the girl's stomach turn so she looked away. Her gaze landed on the pictures Joe had found in Sweet's house. Neither brother had thought to put them away, instead they opted to leave them lying on top of the dashboard. Curiously, Callie picked them up. She looked back at Frank, realizing he hadn't seen her take them. She smiled at Frank's handsome physique, standing in front of some Japanese restaurant. She recognized the background of the second picture as NYU. Still smiling she looked at the third picture; suddenly the smile left her face. 

"Frank," she attempted to keep her voice level, "when was this taken?"

Frank looked at the picture quickly then grinned recalling fond memories, "Oh that, it was taken a few years back. Joe and I were on case.."

"In Egypt," Callie finished for him, in a very cross tone.

"Yeah, so what's the prob-" Frank's voice trailed off as he realized why she was upset, "Oh."

"I can't believe you," Callie hissed, "we were still dating."

"Hey I only kissed Nancy because we were on a case," Frank lied.

"Don't lie to me Frank, I know you well enough to tell when you're lying."

"Alright so I kissed her, you happy? That was taken a long time ago, too long ago to count now."

"I always knew there had to be something going on between you two. Every time she came to visit you would go all Doe-eyed and get all nervous. I thought it was just my imagination but now," she waved the picture in front of his face.        

"Hey I'm trying to drive. And just for the record I don't do the 'doe-eyed' thing."

"Yes you do," Callie said with a frown, "you did it when she met up with us in New York City."

"Look I would rather not talk about this anymore."

"Fine," Callie huffed and crossed her arms across her chest.

*                      *                      *

Joe, now driving, looked at the address in his hand. "Man, there is now way this place even exists. I've been up and down this street twice and I can't find the house."

"Joe I think you're holding it upside down," Callie announced.

"What?"

She took the piece of paper with an address hastily scribbled on it and promptly turned it right side up.

"Oh."

By then it was early morning. Frank had decided to catch up on some sleep and had switched places with his brother.

"Joe, you really need to be more observant," Chet told him.

"Stop it, now you're staring to sound like my mother."

"Joe quiet," Nancy hissed, "Frank is still sleeping."

"Well wake him up, we're here."

*                      *                      *

Yaline blinked in disbelief when she saw Joe Hardy standing at her door. "Joe, your dad told me you were coming. You've really grown." Looking past him she saw a crowd of teenagers, each looking like they were starved, "Oh, come in and have some breakfast, Vlores is making something in the kitchen. Just follow me." Yaline made a mental note of each person she allowed to enter her house. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Sweet. 

*                      *                      *

About a half hour later everybody had finished stuffing themselves full of bacon and eggs.

"We should work on cases more often," Chet said, "We get fed more often."

Frank shifted in his seat uncomfortably, "Um, yeah, about being on a case…" he allowed his voice to trail off, almost afraid of what he might say should he continue.

"Well I think I'm going to clear the table," Nancy announced in an attempt to let the boys talk to Fenton in private. "Michael you want to help me."

"I do?" Michael asked. After receiving a look from Nancy he stood up quickly, "Yeah I want to."

"It's alright Nancy," Fenton told her, "If we are all working on cases that include the same people I guess it's better that you all know what's going on."

Nancy and Michael sat back down.

"First of all I would like to say that I think it is wonderful to see you again Sweet,"

Fenton looked into the eyes of the girl he never thought he would ever see again. He saw a look of surprise register in her eyes. "Yes even after all of the initial turmoil."

Yaline sighed, "Maybe we should start from the beginning…."

*                      *                      *

After a day of searching for answers, the teenagers, Yaline, Fenton, and Vlores retired to Yaline's house. Yaline had insisted that they all stay in her rather large house. 

At the moment, Michael and Nancy were getting ready to fall into their bed and succumb to the pull of la la land.

"Nancy can I ask you something?" Michael asked as he pulled on a wife-beater.

"You just did," Nancy answered with a grin as she crawled into the king sized bed.

"Funny." Michael crawled into the bed with her, "No really, it's serious."           

"Sure," Nancy settled her head against the soft pillows. 

"Alright," Michael took a deep breath and began, "Well first I want you to know that I trust you and this question is coming out of insecurity-"

"Michael, slow down, just ask me."

"Well you remember the pictures at Sweet's house?"

"Yeah," Nancy answered warily.

"Well there was that one of you and Frank kissing and I realize that was before we met but I want, I need, to know if you are attracted to him in any way."

"Michael," Nancy sighed, "you're right, that was before we met. And yes, I did have an attraction to Frank but that was back then. I would be lying if I told you that my attraction to him wasn't strong but I can assure you that I am not attracted to him anymore."

Michael ran his fingers lazily up and down her bare arm. "You mean it?"

Nancy nodded.

 Michael smiled, "I guess my insecurities are getting the best of me." He positioned himself so that he was looking directly into Nancy's eyes. "I love you."

"I love you," she murmured back.

 He closed the gap between them and began to kiss her, softly at first, then more and more passionate. Finally they came up for air.

"Hmm, Frank."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The title for this one was odd but what can I say, I'm a big Disney fan. And there really was no point to bringing in George and Bess, they were just feeling neglected. As for the gap between Fenton explaining everything and Michael and Nancy's, ::ahem::, scene, it'll all be explained next chapter. 

Thanks to…

** Katie Janeway**: I'm glad you liked my disclaimer for chapter 13. Sorry I didn't get around to thanking you before. And I'm glad you liked that last photo, I just couldn't help myself.

Snippets: Sure thing : ) 

            **Mo and Someone too lazy too login**: The way things are going the pairing might go that way.

            **Showstopper**: Glad you found my story and had fun with it! I enjoyed writing Fenton and Vlores' interactions, he he.

            **Elya**: Thanks for the idea. ::grins evilly::

            **Andy**: Nope, not a joke.

            **Agent Goodnight-23**: I was feeling kind of silly and wanted it to reflect in one of the characters. Poor Callie.

            All others that I might have forgotten, I'm sorry, please don't hurt me. 


	17. Discoveries

Author's Note: Alright so I've never done this before…this whole chapter is going to consist of flashbacks, flashbacks inside of flashbacks…trust me you will all figure it out. I'm sorry for not updating this story in such a long time, I've been busy with a new show for my broadcast class. If we can pull it off my class will be the first in the state to put on a drama series on high school television. I'm so excited for the first episode to air! 

Disclaimer: He he he, yeah right.

Last time…..

They're finally in Philly at Yaline's house where they eat dinner and the older detectives are about to tell them what's going on when suddenly the writer annoyingly changes scene. Later on that night Michael and Nancy are getting ready to sleep in the same bed, even though they aren't sexually intimate (go figure), when Michael asks Nancy a personal question about Frank. Nancy admits to having had feelings for Frank in the past but claims that's all over and done with. They start to kiss and Nancy murmurs "hmm, Frank." Dum, dum, dum…

Chapter 17-Discoveries (Monday)

"Fenton now is a really bad time," Agent Yaline insisted, "if the Assistant Director catches us.."

Fenton ignored the Agent as he continued to drag her, by the arm, into the nearby elevator. He pushed the button for the fifth floor but pulled the emergency stop as the elevator began to move.

"Fenton," Yaline hissed as the elevator doors closed, "Why are you acting irrationally?"

"Yaline I couldn't take the chance that anyone would hear me."

The Agent observed her distressed friend with worry, noticing for the first time the sweat dripping down his face, the nervous eyes flicking back and forth. "Fenton what's wrong?"

"The case they assigned us to," Fenton whispered, tightening his grip on Yaline's arm, "it's fake."

"Fake?"

"Imaginary, obsolete, doesn't exist!" the detective pulled Yaline closer, looking into her eyes with his wild ones.

"I know what the word means," Yaline said calmly, "But how could it be fake?"

Fenton let go of Yaline's arm and she noticed a sweat stain on her white t-shirt. "I mean they set us up with a case that doesn't exist, its a coverup." He began to pace.

"Fenton lets think rationally. Why would they use a false case to cover another? And why assign anyone to the false case for that matter?"

He stopped pacing and looked at her as though that was the most idiotic question he'd ever heard, "I wondered that at first too but then I dug deeper into our case. They were performing some kind of experiments and when the others found out they were told to stop and then-"

"Fenton!" Yaline exclaimed in agitation, "Who are they? Or the others?"

"They are the CIA and the others are the government! Don't you see Yaline? The CIA were experimenting and the Federal government found out and put the FBI on the job of exposing the CIA's plans." Before Yaline could interrupt, Fenton rushed on, "What the feds weren't expecting was that the FBI is in on it. They made it look like they were helping the feds when in reality they were wasting the time of their own agents, sending us on goose hunts, all so that the CIA would be protected."

Yaline shook her head, overwhelmed, "Fenton how could that be? The FBI is the _Federal_ Bureau of Investigation, if anything the FBI would help the federal government. And why bring in a New York City Detective for that matter?"

"The initial activities took place in New York, in my precinct, my guess is that the FBI wanted to make it look like they were being cooperative."

She reached passed him and released the emergency button, sending the elevator into motion again, "Fenton this is ridiculous! I know we've been stuck on this aggravating case for a long time but that's no reason to go grasping at straws."

*                                  *                                  *

"Of course I didn't think anything of what he'd said," Yaline was explaining to her guests, "To me it was just the ranting of a crazed Detective."

"But you wrote him off?" Nancy asked.

"Yes," Yaline looked at the table, "but then things started to get…odd."

*                                  *                                  *

The Agent opened the door to her apartment, "FBI cover ups, my ass," she muttered to herself. Closing her door, she set her purse down on her dining table. She walked over to her couch, plopped down on it and turned the television to the news.

"President Reagan has announced his plans to…"

She changed the channel. Sports on NBC. Click. Mindless sitcom on ABC. Click. Back to the news.

"Yes John, the president has announced that he will not let the country's education go to the dogs. In fact he has outlined a new plan to…"

Yaline sighed, _I just can't get away from politics._

Ring.

"Hello?" she said.

"Agent," a soft voice said.

"Yes? Do I know you?" Yaline frowned.

"No but I have a message for you. You have to believe your partner before.." Click.

*                                  *                                  *

"It just went dead?"

"Yes Fenton, I already told you that."

"Sorry," Fenton apologized, "its not like my informant to do this, I wonder what's wrong."

"That was your informant?"

Fenton nodded as he took a seat across from Yaline's desk. "Usually she doesn't bother to call anyone, just shows up randomly. She's the one who let me in on the cover up."

"If you ask me you're both a little…touched."

"Yaline what is it going to take for me to convince you of this?"

"Proof."

"Come with me tonight. I'm going to check out a lead."

*                                  *                                  *

Joe leaned forward in his seat, "So what happened with this lead?"

*                                  *                                  *

Fenton shined his flashlight to the right.

"Fenton," Yaline whispered, "this warehouse has been empty for months."

"Yes I know," he told her, "but according to my informant there should be some kind of evidence here."

"Evidence of what?"

"That the FBI is covering something up."

Yaline rolled her eyes and went back to looking around the warehouse, flashing her flashlight in every possible direction.

"Yaline, over here."

She looked over her shoulder to see Fenton crouched in front of an old wooden crate. Carefully she made her was over to him. "What am I looking at?"

Fenton pointed at the bottom of the crate, "Scratch marks."

"They could be from rats."

He shook his head, "No, this looks like some one tried to move the crate." He stood up and placed his hands on the top of the crate.

"What are you doing?" Yaline asked when her partner leaned his weight against it.

"There has to be a reason someone tried to move it." 

Yaline decided to help, she placed her flashlight on top of the crate and began to push. Little by little the crate began to move.

"Just a little farther," she heard Fenton tell her. "There, that's good."

Yaline looked at her partner, then at the floor, "What did we just do?"

"Don't you see it?" Fenton crouched down and began to trace a near invisible line with his finger.

Yaline crouched down beside him. She watched as he traced what looked like a box. "What is it?"

Fenton frowned, "I believe it's a door of some sort but I can't seem to figure out how to open it."

Yaline began to feel the floor for some kind of a doorknob.  Her hands came across a small indent in the floor. "Fenton I think I've found something."

He leaned over, "I think you have."

*                                    *                                  *

            "So..was it a door?" Vanessa asked meekly.

            Fenton Hardy nodded, "And it lead us to the very core of our mystery."

*                                    *                                  *

"Fenton, I hate to admit this but I'm a little frightened." Yaline took in her surroundings, a dark, musty tunnel. The stench of what must have been sewage overcame her senses.

"Don't be. Remember, we have guns." 

"Yeah yeah, you men and your guns."

Fenton smiled, "Have you ever read Dr. Jaswall's theories on the psychology of the male versus the female?"

"No," Yaline told him as they walked.

"He came to the conclusion, through years of lab research, that men have a love for violence because it helps us compensate for what we are lacking, which in this case would be the right and ability to give life."

"I like that theory," Yaline said, "although I must admit I think the guy is a real nut case."

"So do I, but his books are fascinating."

"So bullshit is acceptable as long as it's fascinating?"

"Yep."

After about one hundred yards, Yaline spoke up, "Fenton I don't think there is anything down here."

"There has to be," Fenton insisted.

"Don't you think that if there was anything we would have found it already?"

"Oh ye of little faith."

"I'm serious Fenton, there isn't anything-" she was cut off by the sound of a door closing.

Fenton turned to her, placing a finger to his lips and motioning for her to follow him. Wordlessly, Yaline let him lead her to a dead end in the tunnel. She watched as he pressed his ear to the brick wall, understanding what he was thinking, that there must be another concealed door here. 

Fenton pressed against the wall with all his weight. Yaline watched in fascination as the wall began to rotate. Fenton grabbed her arm and yanked her through before the wall finished rotating. Yaline looked at the now closed wall behind her._ Man things are starting to look like one of those plots from the old mystery novels my mom used to make me read. _

Yaline did a double take when she finally noticed the room she was in. She looked over at Fenton and knew he was thinking the same thing as she was. _Why is there a laboratory down here?_

Before either one could guess they heard voices coming near. Both dove under a nearby desk. Luckily the voices passed by the room without entering.

*                                              *                                              *

"So was the room part of a larger building or something?" Frank asked.

Fenton nodded, "The voices we heard were two doctors passing through the hallway. It turned out the room we were in was only a minimal part of the…experiments."

"And what's worse," Yaline added, "Was that we knew one of those doctors."

*                                              *                                              *

Fenton looked Yaline in the eyes, "Jaswall," he mouthed. Yaline nodded, indicating that she had recognized his voice as well.

As soon as the voices passed the two detectives stood up and crept around the room, searching for anything that might help make their situation make sense. There was nothing out of the norm. The lab was like any other, tools, lab coats, computers, and the irritating smell of different experiments. Unfortunately these experiments were normal as well, consisting mostly of plants.

Yaline signaled to her partner. He raised his eyebrows and she motioned towards the door. Fenton nodded and Yaline slowly opened the door, peering out into the hall. She signaled to him and both crept out into the well-lit hallway. Fenton was astounded, who would have thought there would be a large scientific complex underneath the city.

He tapped his partner on the arm and led her through a door to another room. Yaline frowned in question and Fenton pointed. A look of shock appeared on his partner's face. In several glass jars were the half-developed bodies of human babies. By the look of the development it was clear to both that these babies were not miscarried but rather physically retarded. Yaline could not explain why babies carried to full term would be so physically retarded. Instead of trying to rationalize she began to read the tags on each jar.

Each baby was assigned a number and described. #376, one month, failed. #377, six days, failed. #378, one day, failed. #379, two days, passed. Yaline looked at the jar of baby 379, she could not understand why it was given a passing label. Everything about the baby was the same as the others. In fact it was even more retarded.

Fenton, meanwhile, was going through some files very carefully. Yaline tapped on his shoulder and pointed towards #379. Nodding, Fenton pulled out file 379. Opening it he found the words PASSED in bold black lettering. Both read the file to themselves:

#379 

            Age: Two days

Status: Passed

Hypothesis: The added amounts of our genetic syrum should be enough to cancel any and all problems we have been having with our other subjects. Subject 379's brain activity should be fully intact as the syrum will help the brain's ability to operate under increased DNA activity.

Conclusion: The hypothesis was correct. The subject was able to operate brainpower superior to that of a naturally born child. In fact, the subject was able to open its eyes right after birth, which is not usual of a child and was, in fact, able to breath without having to cry. All that remains is creating a subject without retardations.

Reasons for Termination: Retardation (physical)

Fenton flipped through the file, finding pictures of the child immediately after birth and charts. Yaline stopped him when she saw the charts. Although Fenton did not understand them, he knew that Yaline did. 

Agent Yaline looked at a few more jars, noting that the next few were labeled passed. Each became more and more deformed until she came across #390. She signaled to Fenton to find file 390, which he did.

#390

Age: Two months

Status: passed

Hypothesis: By keeping the genetic syrum at the same level as our other passed subjects we will be able to keep the brain activity constant. However, by decreasing DNA activity, which we failed to do with passed subjects, we should be able to decrease retardation.

Conclusion: The hypothesis was correct. Subject #390 was subject to less retardation because of the reduced stress of DNA activity.

Reasons for Termination: Retardation (physical)

Yaline flipped through the charts of the child and frowned. Fenton recognized the look of a detective on a roll. Deciding against disturbing Yaline he began to look for a child without deformations, after failing to do so he began flipping through files again. What he found surprised him, files with military seals. Most were from the Air Force and Marines though there were a few from the Navy. Curiously, he opened one of the Air Force sealed files.

A54

Age: Two years

Status: Passed

Hypothesis: The reproduction of cells in the body should, as passed experiments have shown, be possible as long as we continue to give the same levels of genetic syrum and reduce DNA activity.

Conclusion: Reproduction of cells was possible, however, there were unforeseen side effects. Subject A54 has shown, after two years of life that it has become subject to the same disease its original counterpart experienced, Sickle-cell anemia. Unusual phenomena occurred with this subject that was not seen with others, the ability to recollect memories before its time.

Reasons for Termination: Retardation of the cells.

Fenton frowned and handed the file to Yaline. She read the file and frowned as well, especially as she read the analytical charts. Realization dawned on her. She carefully placed the files back into their slots and motioned for her partner to follow. Before leaving the room she murmured, "There has to be a room down here where they are keeping any of their living Passed experiments."

*                                              *                                              *

Callie's eyes teared, "Those poor children, discarded like trash."

"To the scientists they were," Yaline told her, "they were genetic trash."

"So," Nancy started, her voice wavering, "Those children that were in the jars, they were just the first steps of the experiment."

"Yes," Fenton answered, "First the scientists had to focus on making the children intellectually superior, then they decided to move on to the physical."

"I'm a little confused," Joe admitted, "What was in the files exactly?"

Yaline explained, "On each of those charts were the details of what the scientists had done to the children's DNA. It showed that the scientists were experimenting with the amount of brain activity that the human brain can experience as well as how much DNA junk they could remove from the human genome."

Chet raised his hand tentatively, "I hate to sound stupid but I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You see Chet, human DNA contains a lot of what scientists call junk DNA, DNA that does nothing, they seem to be fillers. To this day, scientists are not sure why its there. The scientists we found were trying to make that part of the DNA active. They found that it was useless to try because humans only use a fraction of their brains. As a result the babies came out retarded. Finally a doctor, Jaswall, found that they could increase brain activity with a genetic syrum and manipulate some of the junk DNA."

"This balance," Fenton went on to explain, "allowed the scientists to create a balanced, superior intellectual and physical, child."

"But the two year old.." Vanessa started.

"Probably the same thing that happened with me," Sweet murmured.

Fenton nodded, "The child retracted the same genetic disease that its original had so the Air-Force and the scientists decided to end its life."

"So did you ever find a room with living subjects?" Frank asked. "And what about those memories?"

*                                              *                                              *

            Fenton followed Yaline through the halls. For long periods of time they found themselves passing identical labs, research cubicles and supply closets. 

            _Why haven't we run into any of the researchers working here_, Fenton wondered, _not that I'm complaining._

            Yaline stopped suddenly. Fenton looked at his partner in confusion. 

            "Look," she mouthed.

            Fenton looked around and shrugged. The FBI agent rolled her eyes before instinctively reaching for her gun. Fenton followed her lead and pulled his gun out from beneath his suit. He watched as his partner edged closer to a metallic door. Confused, he watched her twist the doorknob with one hand while holding on to her gun with the other. 

            Yaline looked back at her partner and jerked her neck. Fenton nodded. In one swift movement Yaline let go of the doorknob and kicked the door open.

                                    *                                  *                                  *

            "Wow, why so dramatic?" Biff asked.

            "What I didn't know at the time was that Yaline had heard children crying," Fenton explained.

            Yaline continued, "It had sounded like children being tortured and what can I say…the more humane, and less FBI agent, side of me took over."

            "So what was it?" Joe asked.

            "I think I can take it from here," Sweet told him. "When that door flew open…"

                                    *                                  *                                  *

            Both detectives looked into the surprised faces of a dozen or so children. 

            "Are you children alright?" Yaline asked. She received no verbal answer; instead the children stared at her blankly.

            Fenton gasped as his eyes adjusted to the room's low level of illumination. The children were all shaved bald, serial numbers tattooed to the sides of the heads. Most of the children looked as though they had been deprived of food, some taking on the shape of their skeleton. "Yaline how old do you figure they are?"

            "I'd put most of them in a range of about 1-3 years old." Yaline indicated towards a corner of older children, "and I'd put them in a 5-9 year range." Turning towards the children Yaline began to talk, "We don't know why or how you got down here but we are here to take you back to your parents." The children looked at each other blankly.

            "Don't bother," a voice from the back of the room told her.

            "Who are you?" Fenton asked.

            A figure made it's way to the front of the room, "I'm the eldest one here, my name is Sweet Rodriguez. I've been down here for the last seven years, and if you hadn't noticed, I am a teenager."

            "But why? Who?" Fenton was at a loss for words.

            Sweet snorted, "So many questions, so little time." She looked at what the detectives had by now deducted were subjects of the experiment, "They don't know any better, they've all been brainwashed into believing what _they _want us to believe." Yaline did not the contempt with which she had said they. "These kids don't know what the outside world is like, I've tried telling them but it always lands on deaf ears."

            "Come on," Fenton told her, "We're getting you all out of here." Yaline nodded in agreement.

            A look of fear passed across Sweet's eyes, "But they'll know and they'll come looking for us."

            "Don't worry honey," Yaline said softly. "We'll keep you safe. Now come we  have to get everyone to safety, Fenton and I will lead the way."

            As the detectives turned to leave the room they felt a strange tingling sensation on the lower parts of their backs, followed by a sharp jolt. They fell to the ground, gasping for air. The last thing they saw was Sweet standing above them, smiling wickedly. 

            "You poor fools," she laughed. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Well after a long hiatus there you go, I hope you all like the chapter. I was actually hoping to get all of Fenton and Yaline's story out of the way in this chapter but it didn't work out that way. I guess the next chapter will have to be a collection of flashbacks as well. ::sigh:: At this rate you'll never get to see Michael's reaction to Nancy's slip up.

Alright it has been so long since I updated that I can't even remember whose reviews to respond to. If I forgot anyone out there who reviewed I am deeply sorry…

**Aurora Dannon**: Shame on you, go to bed. Just teasing. Thanks for clearing up the whole thing with the authors of the two series. I just had to know. Because I haven't updated in forever I am guessing that you've already had your baby. Congratulations! Girl or boy? If it's a boy you should have named him Spike, Beatrice for a girl…what do you think? He he he, now you probably think I'm nuts. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.

**Mp:** Yo wuz up? Don't worry, everything will tie together eventually, I promise you.

**Showstopper**: Yup that was Nancy, sorry I didn't make that more clear. I went back and reread the chapter and I was even confused as to who was moan…er…talking. bad Pookie

**Casey Rogers**: Weird, I live for weird. Hey a fan of those classical couples, that's cool. I had to have them break up in order to add more drama to the story. Well Joe and Vanessa probably could have stayed together and I could have had Biff get Sweet and go from there but I've always felt that Joe and Vanessa's relationship didn't stand a chance in Hell…for many reasons.

**Snippets' friend**: Addicts, I love addicts. You're my reason for writing. This long wait between chapters must have been killing you. Well as much as I love accidental homicide I guess I'll have to learn to update much more quickly.

**Snippets**: Introducing my drug to your friends are you? ::grin:: thank you. 

**Fandnshipper:** Oops ::grins sheepishly:: I should check on my pop culture references more often, make sure I don't do stuff like that. Don't worry, I love it when my readers are observant.

Alright its time for you all to go review, if you review I'll love you forever. And those of you that don't…..you're on my list.


	18. Life Is Short

Author's Note: Ha Ha ha Ha Ha Ha, I'm back!Okay here's the deal, my computer crashed at the end of last month because of a virus and its taken this long to get it reformatted. Unfortunatly none of my fanfiction files that I had saved on my computer were rescued, I was able to rescue a ridiculous picture I saved to a paint document though. I had written the eighth chapter to this story but since it wasn't saved I had to rewrite it. I hope that I improved on the original chapter, although I don't remember everything I wrote in it. Also, I haven't been able to reinstall Microsoft Word so I'm using a second rate wordprocessor without a spellcheck. I'll try and check my own spelling but I'm sure I'll miss some. Oh yeah and becuase I'm using this wordprocessor I can't put anything in italics or bold so I can't really distinguish between thoughts and other things. And forget any kind of formatting, it just kind of does what it wants....  
  
Disclaimer: I totally don't own the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew. If I was getting money to actually write these things then I would update a hell of a lot faster, beleive me.  
  
Interesting fact: Las Vegas is spanish for The Meadows.  
  
Chapter 18: Life Is Short  
  
Fenton Hardy awoke to the site of his wife running a comb through her soft hair.  
  
"Good Morning honey," she purred.  
  
He smiled from his bed, only his wife could make him feel so alive, so happy.  
  
"I'm glad you feel that way," she told him.  
  
Fenton frowned, he didn't remember speaking his thoughts.  
  
"Oh you didn't say it out loud honey but I can read minds."  
  
Since when.  
  
She laughed in a mocking tone, "Since you met me you poor fool."  
  
The words echoed in Fenton's mind, Poor Fool.  
  
"And now," his wife's voice filled with venom, "I'm going to kill you!"  
  
He awoke with a start and relaxed when he realized it was just a dream.  
  
"Ah Mr. Hardy, so glad you're awake, your partner is still out."  
  
Fenton was surprised to see that he was strapped to an operating table, he could feel the cool metal through his clothing. He tried to find the source of the voice but realized his head was strapped down as well.  
  
"Oh don't you know me Hardy? I know you."  
  
The detective swallowed in an attempt to find his voice. "Where's my partner?"  
  
"Oh she's on the table next to you, not that it matters, you're both strapped down."  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Don't you recognize my voice?"  
  
As hard as he tried, Fenton could not put the voice to a face. He felt the presence of his captor coming closer and shuddered. "What do you have to do with the children?"  
  
"Tut tut Hardy, I'm in control, remember that."  
  
Fenton saw a shadow cross over his own body.  
  
"I guess its all the fluid Rodriguez injected into your body that's scrambling your brain. Here let me show you who your brilliant captor really is."  
  
At the sight of his captor Fenton gasped.  
  
* * *  
  
"So Jaswall was your captor?" Chet asked confused. "I thought he was just a scientist down there. And I thought he was with the FBI."  
  
"It actually makes sense," Fenton told him, "Jaswall was in charge of me while I was working with the FBI and everytime I went to him for permission to follow a risque lead he wouldn't let me."  
  
* * *  
  
"So all that time," Fenton croaked, "you were covering your own trail."  
  
Agent Jaswall laughed, "You don't even know what this is all about, how can you accuse me of covering any kind of trail?"  
  
Fenton heard the sounds of Yaline coming to. "Fenton," she murmurred.  
  
"Right here Yaline."  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
Jaswall interrupted, "My dear you are in my magnificent laboratory."  
  
"Who..."  
  
"Jaswall," Fenton told her.  
  
"What?" She asked a little dazed.  
  
"Agent Jaswall," Fenton said the name with contempt, "seems to have taken us hostage."  
  
"Oh no," Jaswall corrected, "that would mean I am expected to give you back to society. No, you two are going to help conduct a few experiments."  
  
Yaline shuddered, understanding the implication completely.  
  
"Stay put kids I'll be back."  
  
After hearing footsteps move further away, Fenton assumed Jaswall had left the room. "Yaline we have to get out of here."  
  
"No kidding. How?"  
  
Fenton was silent.  
  
"You know he means to kill us."  
  
Fenton nodded before he realized she couldn't see him, "Yes."  
  
Yaline was silent for a moment, "I wonder why that girl betrayed us like that."  
  
"Maybe she isn't being held captive, maybe she works down here."  
  
"No, she is a prisoner like the rest of them. She is too skinny to claim to be fed properly and that look in her eyes was slightly maniacal."  
  
"Now, now," they heard a voice say, "its not nice to talk about people behind their backs." Sweet walked closer to the detectives.  
  
"What do you want?" Fenton asked sourly.  
  
Sweet reached for a tray that was out of their sight and picked up a razor.  
  
"What's that for?" Yaline asked nervously.  
  
The girl didn't answer and for the first time the detectives noticed she was wearing a complete surgeons uniform.  
  
"Don't worry," Sweet told them, "I'm not here to hurt you."  
  
Something in her tone told the detectives not to rejoice. As the syrum they had been injected with began to fade, Fenton realized just why he could feel the cold metal so definatly, he wasn't wearing any clothes. "What do you plan to do to us?"  
  
"Why detective I would have thought you would have figured that one out already."  
  
"The experiments, you need to test them on adults," Yaline said, mostly to herself.  
  
"What?" Fenton exclaimed, "Why?"  
  
"Ask your partner," Sweet said in a dull voice.  
  
"Fenton they found out how to create babies that will grow to be full functioning adults with extra abilities but how are they to know what could happen to them as adults?"  
  
Fenton thought. "But isn't Sweet one of their full functioning adults?"  
  
"Unfortunatly," Sweet muttered bitterly as she began to lather Fenton's hair with shaving cream, "that is not correct. I am not one of Jaswall's clones." Yaline noted that the girl had said Jaswall's clones. "I  
  
am a part of the same experiment you are going to be a part of."  
  
"Please explain." Fenton spoke up.  
  
"Might as well," Sweet said, "Considering you are going to die soon." She began to runt he cool razor over Fenton's scalp. "You see the government began these tests in the 1950s but haven't really been able to get anywhere until about ten years ago. I know you read the files, about the failed experiments and the passed ones. What you have to know is that it doesn't stop there, like you said they needed to know what happens as adults and well you know the government, they are so impatient. They began to test on fully grown citizens, only to realize it wasn't possible."  
  
"But how could they manipulate already formed DNA?"  
  
Sweet grinned, "Now here's the great part. The syrum that was given to the fetus gave the adults polio. Baffled, the scientists that developed the syrum kept attempting the procedure only to wind up with more aborted projects. Finally they gave up hope with the syrum and began to develope a new procedure. This time," Fenton felt the razor run along his head, "they created a digestible syrum, one that was to be drinken. Before you ask Yaline, the syrum targeted what was 'wrong' with the DNA, made it stronger. What the scientists didn't know was that while it made the human stronger in terms of hearing, sight, etc. It also strenghtened their already existing...conditions."  
  
"What kind of conditions?" Yaline ventured to ask.  
  
"Anything genetic. Genetic AIDS became full blown and anyone suffering from a genetic mental illness was driven completely mad. Of course you know what the scientists did with these failed experiments, they disposed of them."  
  
"But where did they find subjects?"  
  
"They took volunteers from inside military ranks," Sweet told her, "Of course had the volunteers known what they were in for they might have thought twice."  
  
"Sweet, why are you here?"  
  
"I was given that new syrum. You see, I was once a normal human being, born to Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez in Santa Barbara, California. The only problem was, I have diabetes, a serious genetic case. My father, the ever optimistic Air Force pilot, was told that the government had a solution, that my diabetes would disappear in a few years thanks to a miracle cure." Sweet paused for a second, taking her anger out of Fenton's hair. "They really didn't have much of a choice. I was going to die from my condition anyway, insulin wasn't helping me at all."  
  
"The government brought me down here seven years ago and administered the syrum. Being ten years of age I was a little scared, after all these were strangers giving me a strange orange colored liquid that tasted horrible. Anyway, they held me there for observations and what do you know, the liquid was working. I could see better, hear better, in fact I couldn't feel any of the effects of my diabetes."  
  
"But I thought the syrum made genetic conditions worse."  
  
"Apparantly the syrum they gave me was a slight improvement over their former one. It only managed to suppress the diabetic effects for a few weeks then it all came back, not as bad as before, but not what the scientists needed to hear. My parents were overjoyed that insulin would now be a possible form of life support, those naive people. The scientists had never let me leave the confines of their lab and even from a child's persepective I knew they never would." Sweet could feel the tears threatening to come flooding out. "My parents had been allowed to call me and write letters while I was in for the initial testing but after a while the letters, the phone calls, everything just stopped. I was never told why, just that I would never see my parents again."  
  
"Sweet," Fenton said gently, "The insulin, did it help after the testing?"  
  
"In a way." She admitted, "I know you are wondering why I helped Jawall capture you after the hell I've been through down here but you have to understand, my diabetes is getting worse. The only thing that suppresses it now is a special combination of insulin and other drugs that the scientists down here create for me."  
  
"What kind of drugs?" Fenton asked.  
  
Sweet finished with his hair and began to cut Yaline's, "They wont tell me. If they did then I would know what I needed and break out of this place. I do know that they use a little of an updated version of that syrum, the kind they injected into the fetus I mean." She paused, "I'm not sure how that works exactly but then again I'm not a scientist."  
  
Yaline winced vainly as she felt more and more of her hair being cut off. "Have the scientists found a completly successful way to enhance the adults?"  
  
"Not really," Sweet told them, "which is why they need you. After several years of testing, the scientists have finally run out of volunteers. It finally got around the military that volunteering for the notorious secret project was simply a bad idea. Jaswall decided to test on the two of you with a new method he had been dying to try out."  
  
Fenton shuddered, "What kind of new method?"  
  
As Yaline felt the final strands of hair being removed from her head she heard Sweet's response. "He needs to be able to administer the syrum for the fetus directly to the adults brain while simultaneously feeding their bodies a combination of the digestible syrums that have been developed over the years."  
  
"Sorry I asked."  
  
"I'm sorry you have to go through with this," Sweet told him, "history has already taught me one thing, the first experiments are like the first pancakes, their the ones you're supposed to throw out first."  
  
Fenton felt no shame as tears popped into his eyes, he would never see his wife again, or witness the brith of their first child.  
  
Finished with her job Sweet turned to the intercom on the wall. Pressing the button she spoke directly into it, "Subjects 7A3 and 7A4 prepped for testing."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Guess what, I am having so much fun with this sci-fi angle it isn't even funny.  
Alright, to the awesome reviewers who keep this fun and exciting, YOU ALL ROCK!  
  
Snippets: Um, whoops. Guess I did keep you all waiting way too long. ::smiles sheepishly:: I promise my next update will not take that long.  
  
katie janeway: did you like the all new cliffhanger? Didya didya didya? I'll update soon so that the cliffhanger won't drive you completely insane though my next chapter might end with yet another cliffhanger. ::smiles::  
  
OutOfSight, OutOfMind: What can I say? I need to update more often. Although it was a mixture of computer problems and a lack of drive from a lack of reviews that held me back this time. I'm glad you reviewed though, it shows that some people are still interested in the story.  
  
Alright, next time: More flashback goodness and maybe we'll finally see what the hell Michael thought of Nancy's slip up! AHHH it's gonna drive me nuts! 


End file.
